


Jenny

by TKelParis



Series: The Noble Girl [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKelParis/pseuds/TKelParis
Summary: The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written forcassikat's birthday.





	1. Send-offs and Strange Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D

**Title** : Jenny  
**Series** : The Noble Girl – A New Who Rewrite  
**Rating** : T  
**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassikat**](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) 's birthday.  
**Disclaimer** : _Hugely_ AU. So no, I own nothing.  
**Dedication** : [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassikat**](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) , of course. Happy birthday, my friend! :D Also [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for the major help with the earlier drafts, and [](https://bas-math-girl.livejournal.com/profile)[**bas_math_girl**](https://bas-math-girl.livejournal.com/) for the final polishing advice. Love you both! (blows a big kiss)  
**Author's** _ **Extensive**_ **Opening Note** : This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D  
  
It's easy to get the idea of taking a character and putting them into a different family situation. So, take one character from the Whoverse, transform the circumstances of her birth into something normal (or as normal as one can get in DW), and give her a different family. What do you get? Possibly this story. If you eliminate one other character.  
  
I spent a lot of time watching “Rose” to get this right. For the first time that I can remember. May I say, imagining this instead made the watching more enjoyable. I don't think I would've become interested in New Who based off of “Rose.” I didn't see anything about her to engage my interest – beyond the human sense of wanting someone in danger to be okay.  
  
Happy Birthday, [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassikat**](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/)! :D

 

 

 

Dear Readers, I want you to pretend that this is the start of New Who. That this is actually an episode you're watching – with added details about the characters' thoughts and respective backstories. Suspend what you know about New Who whenever possible, and pretend there are several big mysteries to be explored later on in the series. Make your comments as though you just “watched” for the first time, and see as the series progresses what you're able to accurately guess/predict. :D

This is actually more interesting to me because a certain someone auditioned to play Rose Tyler. I didn't know that until I told one of my friends about this idea. :D

 

 

 

_(opening sequence_

_Christopher Eccleston_  
_Georgia Moffet_  
_Noel Clarke_

_**DOCTOR WHO** _

“ _JENNY”_

_based on “Rose”, by Russell T. Davies)_

 

**Chapter 1 – Send-offs and Strange Meetings**

The skies above Earth were quiet. Nothing was happening to attract the attention of anyone. If one swooped down to Ealing, the same could've been said in the grand scale.

An alarm went off in a bedroom. A delicate hand shot out to turn it off. A blonde head emerged from a slightly faded Wallace and Gromit rocket duvet, hair a tangled mess. She rubbed her eyes, shaking off the remnants of sleep that lingered.

There was a knock at her door. “Sweetheart?” called the girl's mother. “You want to see me off, you best get dressed! We have to catch the bus!”

The blonde smiled, kicking off her nest and waking fully in an instant. “Be right out,” she answered, grabbing the clothes she laid out the night before.

Soon after, the two were on the bus so the mother could catch the train. The station was busy practically all the time. It made traffic awful – hence taking the bus.

There was little chance for talking on the ride over. Too noisy for the private talk they wanted to have, and there hadn't been time at breakfast.

The blonde liked to wear practical clothing. Modestly-fitted jeans and a feminine-fit t-shirt with a design with the binary numbers for the letters 'Q' and 'T', covered by a casual green knit zip-up jacket suited her today. It also worked for her job, since she'd bought the jacket and jeans from them. (Helped that she was a good employee – else she would've just been a brat rebelling against the shop dress code.) Clean black and white trainers completed the look, much to her mother's dismay. She carried a light brown over-the-shoulder purse, and let her hair down for once. She usually kept it in a ponytail, but her mother and grandmother had urged her to try doing otherwise every so often.

Her ginger mother looked every bit the professional woman. Matching black skirt and jacket, a modest deep blue blouse, and business pumps fit well with the large purse that doubled as a briefcase. At her side was her suitcase, packed carefully for her journey. She usually kept her long hair down, often straightened to remove the waves.

The blonde frowned as she glanced again at her mother's hair. “You'd save time if you didn't use that straightener almost every day.” Her tone would've let any listener know that this was a frequent thought.

The ginger cringed, then looked lost in thought. “I do it because I feel like I have to,” she answered quietly. “Almost no one likes it as it is. Other than you, Gramps, and Great-Grandy.”

It took the blonde a moment to realise she'd hit a sore spot. One she tried to not talk about, out of respect to her mother. So she kept her mouth shut.

Soon enough, the two ladies exited the bus toward the departure area. They had been there many times, and the blond couldn't wait until she could drive and drop her mother off. “How long this time?” she asked, her hair caught in a slight breeze.

Her mother smiled sadly as she pulled her suitcase behind her. “A few weeks, at least. It's a big project, and they insisted on my working on-site. If I do the job I think I can, I'll earn enough money to help get us a lot closer to clearing granddad's mortgage.”

Yeah, the girl remembered. Her grandparents had one. Her great-grandparents had one. (Well, now just her great-granddad, bless him.) Everyone she knew who had a home had one. In varying stages. Why people had to buy their own big place was a puzzle to her. There was a point to a small place and just traveling a lot. She'd been laughed at for expressing the viewpoint, so she learned to keep it to herself. As she had to a lot of things.

But not everything. That was too big an ask. “Keeping busy isn't making you less lonely, is it?”

The ginger's face fell further. She cleared her throat, stopping to rest her hands on her daughter's shoulders. “Sweetheart, you are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I chose to work hard because I needed the money to raise you. I couldn't bear the thought of giving you up. Even though I was so young and had to struggle to complete college and all the training. Thank god for the Wednesday Girls – I wouldn't have got those jobs that proved to me I could run my own business otherwise.”

“Something Gran hasn't let you forget,” the girl muttered, folding her arms. “Even though she does love us both.”

Her mother frowned. “Jenny, your gran and many people her age believe that if a woman isn't doing at least what her mother did by the time her mother did it, she's a failure.” The words were tight under the affectionate, patient tone.

Jenny narrowed her eyes. “Just 'cause it's the assumption don't make it right. Or true.”

“Why,” her mother sighed, “do you think I moved us in with your great-granddad after great-gran died?” She pulled her ticket out of her bag. “Things are much better between us now.”

She quirked a grin. “Just because she has to call or drive over to complain? Hasn't the nagging got worse the past year?”

Her mother opened her business cards case, a sign that she was changing the topic in preparation to leave. “Take a few extra of these, just in case anyone asks about the company, okay?” She handed Jenny about ten business cards, saying 'Donna Noble Temp Agency' with contact information and the same name listed as the cards' owner. 'We get the job done right the first time,' its tagline proclaimed.

Jenny put them in her bag's front pocket, looking at her mother the whole time with suddenly pensive eyes. This was the sore spot she was sure she'd hit upon earlier, but she had to ask the question. It was weighing on her mind, with her seventeenth birthday coming up next month. “Do you still think my dad will find us?”

Donna swallowed heavily, struggling to suppress tears. “I  _want_ to believe it. I still do. It's been so hard. I made such a mistake running away from him. Didn't mean I could run away from my feelings.”

Jenny put a hand on her mother's shoulder. “I believe it, too. I know he'll find us one day. What you've said about him, I can't believe that he would walk away when we see him again.” She didn't mention that she had dreams about the man who fathered her. Never saw his face or heard his voice, but his love was ever present. “Be strong. I doubt he's stopped looking for you.”

Her mother flashed another sad smile, then shook her head and cleared her throat. “Jenny, be a help to your gran and granddad. Keep a watch on your great-grandy, do a good job at the shop. We'll see when I get back if I can  _finally_ get you work that fits your skills. Or if another of your gran's friends can get you something better than the shop. At least Miranda was able to get you paying work.”

Jenny smiled wryly. Her mother changed the subject more and more whenever she mentioned her belief in the dad she'd never met. “We've managed this far. We can manage longer.”

Donna hugged her daughter tightly, letting touch communicate everything. It seemed to work with her little treasure, even in the womb. She'd stopped wondering about it, just as she stopped thinking about why her little girl had so many odd quirks. She was hers after all, and wasn't everyone different?

A garbled call from the announcement system broke their little moment. So they each took a deep breath and let go. Donna smiled fondly. “Take care, my treasure. Love you.” She kissed her cheek.

Jenny beamed. “Love you, too, Mum.” She returned the kiss.

Donna Noble, businesswoman and temp extraodinare, flashed her Call-Me-SuperTemp grin to reassure them both, took her bags and quickly boarded the train to Glasgow. She found her assigned seat, right next to a window to wave from to give her girl a few more moments of seeing her. They waved until they couldn't see each other anymore.

Jenny watched as the train pulled away, sending her mother off to a different task. She'd watched her mother develop a temp business of her own, managing a small posse of woman who were talented and enjoyed – like her mother – going from job to job.

There was a wanderlust in Donna Noble, and it was part of why she was still alone. Jenny felt the same sense, but – being young and starting out – she didn't have the options her mother did. And that was limited, despite her mother's successes. She really wondered why people had biases against gingers. You'd think having a prince who was one would've helped!

Sighing, Jenny walked away. Time to go to work... which meant waiting for the next bus.

 

 

 

Jenny liked to hum to herself as she hung on to the outer railing at the back of a double-decker. Her mum hated it when she did that – despite admitting to doing exactly the same in her youth. Today it was “Miss Independent” by Kelly Clarkson. She and a number of her friends liked it – and it had nothing to do with popularity – the woman from Texas sang good things, and she apparently could help write good songs. That was a huge plus in Jenny's book.

She hopped off when the bus stopped. She jogged inside Henrick's, the somewhat fancy clothing shop where she'd managed to be hired. She spared a quick glance at what the mannequins were decked in today, but hurried to clock in. She let out a groan at the big sign over the entrance: “Henrick's SALE SALE Henrick's.” That ensured the day would be fun – cleaning up after people who couldn't be bothered to put away the things they didn't want, who just left them on the floor in the fitting rooms.

Soon she was putting replacement clothing on the tables, now humming “Just Missed the Train” to keep as much of her mind occupied as possible. A shop job was one of the worst jobs to have. Jenny felt only a serving job would be worse. Both jobs, mind, gave you the chance to see the best and worst in people daily – and if you survived with your wits intact, you could probably handle a lot in life.

But she'd seen people steal, and get away with it! How did society function with this happening?!

Still, she did whatever needing doing to earn her pay. Folding clothes, moving them around, helping customers. Yes, it was boring work, but she could always busy herself with mental challenges. Whenever she folded clothes, she did geometric equations in her head, and estimated what could fit into boxes. She had a knack for it. Her mum was good at maths, and passed it on to her. That and a talent with languages.

She assumed. No telling what all she got from her dad.

Rearranging the displays was a chance to think about physics. What bound items together, how much force could be applied to a certain item before it broke or bent. Much more important than most people gave it credit for.

Dealing with customers was practice for testing her instincts about people. She wanted her customers to walk away so satisfied with their purchases that they were very unlikely to return them. She preferred to not make a sale than to make one that she suspected would be returned shortly thereafter. Most of the other girls didn't seem to care.

Lunch break was still a relief. Time out of the shop, where she could read or meet with friends. Or better yet... Rushing into the nearby square, Jenny looked around for her company this afternoon and beamed when she spotted him. “Mickey!”

Mickey Smith's face had already lit up on seeing her. He stood near the fountain. His kind face was always a balm on her spirits, and her sweet one on his. “Brought you a snack to go with lunch!”

He was so sweet that way. He used some of his spare money to give her little things to lift her mood. It worked best when she was facing a bad day, or her mother was away. Giggling, she rushed over to collect the bag, hugging and kissing him tenderly first. She could take a little longer with it since they weren't being watched by her granddad or great-granddad.

Or worse, her gran. Sylvia watched her granddaughter like a hawk, trying to make sure that she didn't follow in her mother's footsteps and have a child out of wedlock. Jenny understood it. Her mum struggled because she wasn't even nineteen when she had her, but she had refused to regret it or let anyone talk about how she should've given Jenny up. Even Sylvia, the loudest proponent of adoption while Donna was pregnant, shut up once she first laid eyes on her angelic-looking grandchild – becoming Donna's fiercest defender instantly.

Jenny was grateful for that; she couldn't imagine anyone else being as understanding or loving. Even her gran, for all the nagging, was determined to ensure she had every opportunity possible since she, Sylvia, could see a lot of herself in Jenny. And Jenny could see a lot of her gran in herself. She had trouble understanding why so many considered that a bad thing.

“Today going well?” she asked, opening the bag as they sat. She could smell the banana bread from a nearby bakery, and instantly had to swallow drool. Dessert had to be eaten first sometimes!

Mickey shrugged as he pulled out his lunch, suppressing a smirk as Jenny whipped out the banana bead. “The usual crowd. Got an old one to work on. Needs a new engine, I can tell. Blown pistons. Budget might mean just replacing the car instead. Trick is getting the owner to accept that.”

Jenny grimaced. “Male?” She took a bite, humming in delight.

Now he chuckled. “Female. Driving a second-hand car. Not sure who's responsible for paying yet.”

“Ouch.” She'd visited the shop a few times since Mickey got the job to pay his bills and help fund his studies. “Are we still on for tomorrow?”

He grinned. “I'll be there.” His face fell as he approached a topic he knew wasn't easy for her. “Your mum leave okay?”

Jenny pouted. She couldn't help it – she missed her mum something awful every time. Growing up hadn't changed it. Might be because she didn't have a dad in her life. Gran, Gramps, and Great-Grandy could only fill the void so much. Especially now that Great-Gran was dead. “As always. She's getting a little sadder each month. She still misses him.”

Him needed no explanation. Not to Mickey – he'd heard the truth from her years ago. He sighed. “She is going out, isn't she?”

She shook her head. “Not anymore. No one's nice enough. Not like my father. I think no one will ever compare.”

He stroked her cheek gently. “Tell her to keep looking. There's someone out there for her.”

Jenny shook her head. “No, I have this feeling that he will come back. He just doesn't know about us yet. When he does, he'll never leave.”

Mickey wished he could believe in that, but he didn't want to ruin her mood more by calling it a fairy tale. “Well, let's enjoy lunch, okay?”

She sighed, knowing he questioned it, but he had the courtesy to not challenge her. He'd only do it if he really thought she needed a kick in the seat. She managed a smile and dug in.

Soon he was hamming it up with his eating to draw laughs from her, and talking her into copying his dance moves – despite her protests that she looked silly doing them whereas he could make them look cool. Wasn't there some movie that sort of went like that?

He was pleased that she was grinning by the time she had to go back. “See you tomorrow, my woman. Love you.”

She smirked, liking the name. Made her feel a bit more mature than she probably was. At least emotionally. “Love you back.” They kissed, hugged quickly, and parted reluctantly.

 

 

 

“This is a customer announcement: the store will be closing in five minutes. Thank you.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. The female voice didn't put the last customers in any hurry to leave. So she was at risk of spending extra time here – she was given a lot of responsibility for someone new. The hiring manager recognized that she was bright and capable, having known her since she was a baby.

Not that she wanted to advance here. It was a job to help with the bills until she could land something more within her skill-set. She hoped. Things were awfully rough sometimes. Of course, you weren't supposed to say such things, were you? You keep your real plans to yourself if it's a staging job on your path, her gran always said. That felt like dishonesty! The workings of society puzzled the devil out of Jenny sometimes.

Mercifully, the last customers left sooner than she or the other girls had expected. She had her purse over her opposite shoulder, and walked toward the door with the remaining shop girls. She was chatting amicably with them about the day. She could be more than politely civil, despite them not having much in common beyond the common job.

“Oi!” One of the security guards – Marc, if she wasn't mistaken – held out the clear lottery money bag to her. Inconsiderate grunt, her mum had remarked about him after visiting the shop once. Miranda, who was currently on vacation in Spain, had merely grimaced at the time.

She took one look at the bag, and nodded with a sigh as she accepted it. “Oof!” She joked.  “We really sold them this time!”

Not that it was heavy. She just wasn't expecting that much inside. Nor did Marc do anything but flash her a get-on-with-it look. The other girls smirked, pleased that none of them got the job.

Refusing to give the others the satisfaction of seeing her displeasure, Jenny promptly went to the lift – acting as calm as you like. The bag had to go to the basement right away. Wilson would be right there with his keys to lock it in the vault. She entered and turned around, sighing as she saw Marc lock the doors after the others. “Guess I'm just trusted more,” she muttered in displeasure as the lift doors closed. Sometimes it stank to be the most responsible one.

She hummed “Just Missed the Train” once again as she felt the lift descend. “Not much longer until I can go home,” she reminded herself. “Just a little delay.”

When the lift doors opened, she stepped out and looked around. It was poorly lit, and the pale bricks and wood walls didn't make for a comforting sight. A few portable clothing racks broke up the monotony. The doors down in the basement all had those handles that attached in two places. The lighting also highlighted the vents and tubing attached to the equally drab ceiling.

It was also silent, save for the building's noises. “Wilson?” She looked around as she went further down the corridor. “Isn't like him to not answer right away, or be right here,”she muttered under her breath. “He has a keen ear for when someone comes down.” She tried a different tack: a sing-song tone as she approached his door.  _“_ Wilson, I've got the lottery money.”

There was no answer.

“Okay, this is worrisome,” she whispered. The lottery money was a running joke among the staff. People talked about what they'd do if they won. Jenny always thought the ideas were impractical. She knew she'd clear her family's mortgages, give some money to help her mother expand her business, and help out kids who needed an education. Yes, and further fund her own studies so she could actually have a career.

Snapping to, she focused again on the moment. “Wilson?” she called out, knocking on his door. It read: RP Wilson, C.E.O.. For Chief Electrical Officer. Like no one would have a clue from the yellow electrical sign below his nameplate.  _“_ You there? Listen, they're closing the shop. I need to get home to my great-grandy's.” She tried tugging on the door, but it was locked. “Wilson, are you all right?!”

There was no answer.

Most teenagers, when faced with such an inconvenience, would groan to themselves and complain loudly. Definitely whine. Probably even leave. But Jenny's instincts were screaming at her that something had gone very wrong. Wilson never failed to react to being called.

A sudden clattering burst further along the corridor. Jenny immediately snapped her head in that direction. “Hello? Hello, Wilson, it's Jenny. Where the hell  _are_ you?! Are you all right?!”

She couldn't hide her irritation. She got it from her mother and grandmother. Try as she might, sometimes it just slipped out. Her accent usually sounded like someone from Berkshire, something no one could explain given that she'd grown up on a quiet street in Chiswick and never even heard a Berkshire accent until she was twelve, but whenever she got upset her accent became a perfect mimic of her mother's. “Oh, I'm getting to bottom of this! No one sends me on a wild goose chase!”

She marched a bit,heading toward the almost-completely see-through hanging dividers. But she stopped outside a fire door for a moment, and listened. She didn't think she could hear anything, but she swore something was happening inside. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and found herself in a room that was apparently being used for storing shop dummies. She could tell even without good light – she'd always had great night vision, superb even. Scared her mum and gran a lot.

Still, she knew as she could almost hear her great-grandy's voice talking like the practical soldier he'd once been, no reason to not have light. She flipped the light on. The various fixtures turned on in bunches, first away from her and then moving closer. She cautiously walked further into the room. More plumbing for the air circulation and such was overhead – no need to cover what only employees would ever see. Sure made a person feel special.

Jenny looked around again. Every dummy was dressed. Some male, some female. The heads remained too androgynous for Jenny's taste. Not to mention all looking like they'd be Jenny's skin tone if they were real people. “Wilson? Are you alright?” No, this wasn't good at all. She couldn't hear anything like a person moving about. No breathing, no talking, nothing.

She reached to try another door at the side, but the fire door closed abruptly. Shocked, Jenny ran back – still carrying the bag – and shook the doors hard, but their hinges just creaked unhealthily. She couldn't get a good grip on the particular handles. If it'd been knobs, she would've had leverage. “Come on! This isn't funny! Whose bright idea was this?! I'll have your guts for garters! And that's before I let my mum and gran at you!”

There was suddenly a loud clattering and banging from behind her. It had a tone that wasn't familiar at all. “Oh, who is it?! Is that someone mucking about like an idiot?!” She went back into the room to figure out what happened, moving slowly. “Who is it?!” she repeated the demand.

Then she heard something creaking. Rapidly turning around, she saw one of the clothed male dummies slowly turn its head – of its own accord. Her mouth fell open as she watched it step out of its alcove and toward her.

Jenny backed away slowly. “What the hell?!” She stared at the slowly moving dummy, which seemed to be gaining momentum even as its motions were jerky. Another was starting to move behind it. “Okay,” she breathed, talking aloud to reassure herself. “Okay...what are animatronics doing being stored down here?” She scowled. “Very funny, whoever you are!”

The dummy was silent and kept moving. More suddenly joined it, all creaking as they advanced on her.

She shook her head and looked around. “You can stop the joke! Who's idea was this?! Was it that berk Derek's?!” He had the most annoying sense of humour.

The dummies still advanced. Other joined from behind. Jenny found herself forced toward a corner.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed as she backed away. “This can't be Derek's work.” He didn't have the smarts. She could tell. She didn't know how this was possible, but all of the dummies acted _alive_.

Well, she wasn't going down without a fight! She threw the lottery bag at the head of the closest one, somehow managing to knock it down, toppling the one directly behind it. She backed away again and bumped into a box, nearly tripping over it. She quickly pulled herself up and grabbed it. Not noticing how heavy it was, she threw it at the next nearest, knocking it and another two down.

But the others kept coming. And the ones she knocked over were getting back up, pushing off what she tossed. Jenny found herself backed against a wall, and felt her way toward the corridor she knew was there. The nearest dummy lifted its arm as if to strike her. She kept her eyes open, looking for anything to try to deflect the blow if she couldn't find the edge of the wall. Her right hand moved to throw her purse at them to buy time to escape.

Suddenly a hand grabbed hers. A flesh and blood hand – although a bit cool. Jenny gasped and snapped her head to look at the owner of the hand. In a split instant, she registered the sharp features of a man's face. Skin-head dark hair, big nose, bigger ears, and blue eyes that seemed deeply haunted by something. He wore an aged black leather jacket like a submariner's, black corduroys equally aged, and what looked like some acrylic jumper standing in for a shirt on a frame that seemed to have some muscle. In a Northern accent that she couldn't place, he said one word: “Run.”

She obeyed, letting him drag her out of the room through the narrow corridor. The dummy's arm hit the pressure valve behind where she'd been, releasing steaming water and air.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins as the man led her away. She looked back, horrified to see the dummies were still in pursuit, moving faster and closing in on a run. The man led her through a few doorways and into a lift, dragging her in behind him. She opened her mouth to scream as the dummies rushed the doors. The man worked the controls, making them close – but the arm of the dummies that tried to strike Jenny stuck in. They all tried to push their way inside. The man fought against the arm for a  _long_ moment and sharply pulled it off, allowing the doors to close fully.

Jenny stared at him. “You pulled its arm off!” She didn't say his or her because there was no blood, nothing that sounded like a body being ripped apart. Who the hell was he?!

“Yep!” he said flippantly. He tossed the arm to her, and she caught it instinctively. “Plastic.”

She frowned, trying to piece together what happened. “Very clever, using robots that look like mannequins! Who's responsible for this then, students at the local tech school?! Is this some so-called genius' idea of a prank?”

The man glanced back at her, arms folded. “Why would they be students?” There was a hint of a grin there, but mostly curiosity. Although his gaze didn't stay on her.

Jenny's eyes narrowed at him and she scoffed. “Well those things can't be people. 'Cause normally to get that many people dressed up identically, they're either students or members of some other group, like a cult. But that's impossible. They moved too oddly, and for anyone to be inside suits that size they would've had to be very,  _very_ thin. And how could anyone manage to get back up so easily?! I've knocked a boy down cold once throwing something at him! So they weren't people! They were robots!”

Oh, the story about the boy was omitting details, but that was beside the point. And she didn't owe him the truth – he owed her!

The man grinned. It softened his face, and brought liveliness to his eyes. It seemed to Jenny that he liked her. Or at least how she thought. “Not robots, but fantastic reasoning there. And you did rather well fighting them off. Much better than I would expect of a girl with your frame.”

“Oi!” Jenny protested. “I'm stronger than I look, Sunshine!” Irritation also made her copy her mother's preferred phrases. “Now will you tell me who those people were?!”

His eyes widened. He blinked rapidly. “Full of fire, aren't you?”

Jenny folded her arms, still holding the arm. “You should meet my mum. She's a ginger.”

He turned to face her, his eyes lit like an instant bonfire as a huge smile broke out. “Ginger! Lovely! Never understood why so many in this age dislike them. Wished since I was little that I'd been ginger. It's irritating that I haven't been lucky enough to see it happen.”

He was talking absolute nonsense. Jenny ought to have been alarmed, worrying that he was some kind of serial killer, but her instincts were telling her that she could trust this man. Shaking her head, she exhaled sharply. “Well, whoever they are, when Wilson finds them, he's gonna call the police. If I don't call them first. He never fails to show up, so what's happened to him?!”

He blinked. “Who's Wilson?” He didn't even look her way as the lift slowed and opened.

She wondered if he knew that and was testing her, or if he was genuinely ignorant. She decided to humour the latter possibility as she put the arm in her bag, deciding she'd take a look at it later. “The chief electrician.”

“Wilson's dead.” With that, he stepped out of the lift.

Jenny's jaw hit her chest, but she followed him. She always had a knack for moving despite shock. “You can't be serious!”

The man ignored her. “Hold on!” His hand shot out to push her to the side, but she dodged him. “Mind your eyes.”

She opened her mouth to ask, and watched as he did something to the lift with an object that looked like a thick pen and buzzed a bit like her mum's sonic toothbrush. There was a small electrical explosion, and then he put the pen-like thing away. “What did you just do?!” she demanded as she noticed the door remaining open.

“Stopped them from using the lift to follow us.” He walked away swiftly.

Did he have some mental disorder?! Did he even realise how bizarre he was acting?! “Listen, you daft sod!” she yelled, following him through the maze of corridors and stairs.

His step faltered slightly, and he glanced at her in shock. As though he'd never been insulted before.

He was probably noting her accent changing again, she figured as she trailed him. Even as he looked back at her more than once, he never lost his footing or ran into something he shouldn't. “Who the hell  _are_ you?! Who's that lot down there? I think I'm owed an explanation! Oi! I'm talking to you!”

He tightened his face. His answer was crisp, like he had a mission and he wasn't going to be distracted. “They're made of plastic.”

She blinked. “What?!”

He continued heedless. “Living plastic creatures.” He led her through another clear divider grouping. “They're being controlled by a relay device in the roof. Which would be a great big problem if I didn't have this.” He showed her an electronic device that Jenny had a bad feeling about. The hint of a grin wasn't reassuring her at all. “So!” he exclaimed, opening the fire exit – which was strangely silent – for her. “I'm going to go up there and blow them up, and I might well die in the process. But don't worry about me, no. Go home, go on! Go and have your lovely beans on toast.”

Jenny's instincts told her that he absolutely believed every word he was saying, as daft as it all sounded, and that there was a very real possibility that he might die. She felt chilled to the bone by the words alone, but the manic look wasn't helping. “You mean, you just saved my life from living plastic – however that can exist – and then you tell me you could die and I'm supposed to just  _accept_ that?!”

Suddenly looking grim, the man grabbed her arm and tugged her outside. “They must be stopped, and I'm the only one who can.” Once she was outside, he added, “Don't tell anyone about this, because if you do, you'll get them killed.” And he promptly shut the door.

Jenny didn't know whether to shout at the door or laugh in disbelief. Her mind was struggling to process what he told her. Living plastic! Who the hell did he think he was, and why did her instincts say she could trust him?! And what did he think he was doing telling her to not tell anyone?! She grabbed her phone, cursing silently at the insanity of the moment as she thought to call the authorities.

The door opened before she could dial. The man popped his head out, still working on the electronic device. “I'm the Doctor, by the way. What's your name?”

“Doctor Who?!” That retort was what his line begged for. And she wasn't too numb from shock to not inject the venom she felt.

He narrowed his eyes. “That's my name, the Doctor. What's yours?”

She blinked.  _Weird_ man. “Jenny Noble.” She wasn't sure why she added her last name. Habit, she supposed.

“Nice to meet you, Jenny Noble,” he said with that hint of a manic smile – although there was something more buried within it. “Wish we could've spoken more. Run for your life.” Gesturing with the device and still grinning, he shut the door again.

Now her instincts told her she needed to do what he said. Trouble was, home was a long way from here and the bus wouldn't come soon enough. So she ran out of the back area and along the sidewalk. Jenny dimly noticed that no one seemed aware of what happened, but no one thought to ask why she was sprinting. Fortunately she soon saw a taxi and let out a shrill whistle to flag it down. Thank God for Saturdays with Mum, watching West Ham matches!

“Where to?” the driver asked from his open window as he slowed.

Jenny stopped right by his window. “56 Grange Road!”

“Ealing? Sure.” He waved her in.

As she opened the door, just before she stepped inside, she looked in the direction the taxi was heading. She noticed something sitting rather incongruously on the sidewalk just down the street: a large, upright blue rectangle with illuminated windows near a sign up top that read “Police Public Call Box.”

She blinked. “Wait,” she muttered, “those don't exist anymore! Gramps told me so! Mum doesn't even remember seeing any! What's an old temporary prison cell doing in London?!”

A sudden loud noise and glow caught her attention as she sat down. She looked out the back window, and she realized the top floor of Hendrick's had blown up. And another explosion burst right after that from the same level.

“Oi!” The driver sped away from the noise. He didn't notice his passenger's yelp as she barely got her other foot inside and closed the door.

Jenny kept staring as she saw hints of the explosion's aftermath, numbly buckling in. Had that strange man died? How  _could_ plastic be alive? And what happened to all the people who were still inside the building when she went downstairs?! Had they got out safely?!

And who  _was_ the Doctor?!

 

 

[ Chapter 2: Overprotected ](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36694.html)  
  



	2. Send-offs and Strange Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[cassikat](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/)'s birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[cassikat](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D

**Title** : Jenny  
**Series** : The Noble Girl – A New Who Rewrite  
**Rating** : T  
**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassikat**](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) 's birthday.  
**Disclaimer** : _Hugely_ AU. So no, I own nothing.  
**Dedication** : [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassikat**](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) , of course. Happy birthday, my friend! :D Also [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for the major help with the earlier drafts, and [](https://bas-math-girl.livejournal.com/profile)[**bas_math_girl**](https://bas-math-girl.livejournal.com/) for the final polishing advice. Love you both! (blows a big kiss)  
**Author's** _ **Extensive**_ **Opening Note** : This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassikat**](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D  
  
It's easy to get the idea of taking a character and putting them into a different family situation. So, take one character from the Whoverse, transform the circumstances of her birth into something normal (or as normal as one can get in DW), and give her a different family. What do you get? Possibly this story. If you eliminate one other character.  
  
I spent a lot of time watching “Rose” to get this right. For the first time that I can remember. May I say, imagining this instead made the watching more enjoyable. I don't think I would've become interested in New Who based off of “Rose.” I didn't see anything about her to engage my interest – beyond the human sense of wanting someone in danger to be okay.  
  
  
  
[Chapter One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36502.html)

 

  
Dear Readers, I want you to pretend that this is the start of New Who. That this is actually an episode you're watching – with added details about the characters' thoughts and respective backstories. Suspend what you know about New Who whenever possible, and pretend there are several big mysteries to be explored later on in the series. Make your comments as though you just “watched” for the first time, and see as the series progresses what you're able to accurately guess/predict. :D

This is actually more interesting to me because a certain someone auditioned to play Rose Tyler. I didn't know that until I told one of my friends about this idea. :D

**Chapter 2: Overprotected**

Jenny walked numbly in front of the sofa, holding a cup of tea in one hand and her mobile in the other. Her bag, with the dummy's arm sticking out of it, lay on the sofa. She would've tossed her jacket beside it, but she felt chilled from her day's end. “I don't know what to do, Mum.”

Up in Glasgow, Donna Noble paced barefoot in her hotel room, rubbing her forehead. “What happened, Jenny?! The news is reporting how the whole of Central London is closed off due to a fire!”

“I'm not sure what I can say!” Jenny wanted to run a hand through her hair, but the tea was too comforting and she didn't have a hands-free device for her phone. She took a quick sip, aware her mum could overhear. “I was told if I said what happened, I could get people killed.”

Donna froze in her tracks. “Jenny, who told you that?! You know you don't keep secrets from the family! What sort of person tries to get away with telling you to not go to the police?!”

She swallowed, knowing she couldn't get away with lying to her mother. She never could – her mother always knew immediately. “The man who saved my life and got me out of there, he told me. He might be dead from that explosion. He said he might well die, but that he had to set it off.” She choked on the words, feeling the loss of life and still wondering about the stranger. If she hadn't thrown the lottery money box at that mannequin, then she would still have it. And couldn't admit it to anyone if she didn't want the police to wonder if she was involved. She shuddered imagining that. “What if he's right?” she managed to continue before her mother could say anything. “What if it is dangerous to talk about it? I can't risk hurting my family!”

The ginger sucked in a breath, watching the muted news as she somehow felt her daughter's anguish. As much as she wanted to know the truth, she had learned she had to trust her daughter's instincts. Usually. “Oh, my treasure. You've got yourself into a mess you had no idea you were walking into?”

“Yeah,” she weakly answered, needing another sip.

Donna nodded solemnly, trying to find the right wisdom for her only child as she rubbed her forehead again. “Right. Talk with your great-granddad. Tell him whatever you think you can, and get his help. Tomorrow, get your granddad and gran's advice on what to do. Speaking of which, have you talked with your grandparents at all?”

She shook her head, instinctively. “No, I called you right as soon as I got home.” She flinched. “Ooh, I probably should've answered my messages, right?”

Donna had to smile over how her girl's mind worked. “Well, I'm betting you've calls from them and Mickey. Possibly some of your friends. You attract loyalty.” Which made her so proud. “So, here's what else I want you to do. Return their calls, and then talk with Gramps. Where is he, by the by?”

“Not here. Means he's up the hill.” Jenny laughed lightly, knowing her great-grandy's habits.

Donna smiled despite herself. “Then go keep him company and tell him, so he's not shocked when your gran talks with him. Why he uses that phone to play music instead, I'll never understand.”

It was a constant source of friction. Although Wilf carried his cell phone with him when he went star-gazing, he used it to play music – not to take calls. At his age, and knowing his very recent history with the threat of stomach cancer, that they couldn't call him alarmed all of his girls. Especially now that Eileen, his beloved wife, was gone. However, this wasn't the time to get into that. “I will. How's the first day gone?”

A snort escaped Donna despite herself. Her girl was sometimes too eager to change the subject when things got too personal or uncomfortable. “Too soon to tell, but I haven't put my foot in it so far.”

Jenny had to laugh. “And how much trouble could you have got yourself into? Especially after a five hour train ride? Besides, you wouldn't. You're too good for that.”

Donna grinned, glad that she'd managed to lift her daughter's spirits. "I got here at 2:50 and then started a sit-in protest at 3 and then went for a coffee and joined another protest. Threw a few petrol bombs and mugged a bloke for his laptop. But don't worry, I got to the hotel before the riots started."

Now she groaned. “Mum! Leave that humour for someone who'll appreciate it!”

Maybe that knocked her out of the worst of that, Donna hoped with a silent snort. “You'll do what I said, love?”

“Of course. Miss you, Mum.”

“I miss you, too. Be safe.” She hung up, turning off the telly so she could focus on her preparation for the next day.

When Jenny heard the call disconnect, she clicked to the other line – which was receiving a call. “I'm alive! I'm physically alright!”

In the kitchen of her home, Sylvia Noble was holding the phone so Geoffrey could also hear, her free hand grasped by both of his. They sat at the old family table, needing the support as their eyes were focused on the news. “It's on the telly!” Sylvia exclaimed. “It's everywhere! You're lucky to be alive! Friends and family have been calling to ask about you! What the hell am I to tell them?!”

“I'm well aware that I'm lucky to be alive, Gran!” Jenny snapped. Three strong women sharing the same home for nearly sixteen years? Two of them for almost nineteen before that? It bred a lot of tension, which made her glad she and her mum now lived in Ealing with Great-Grandy. If that was uncharitable, it wasn't intentional. Sometimes a person just needed their own space. Or someone else needed them more. “I'm also well aware that at least one person I know is probably dead!” Her voice broke. Wilson, maybe Derek... How many were gone?

Geoffrey tried to not shake. This was his only child's only child. “What happened, sweetheart?”

Jenny closed her eyes. Granddad was always so gentle and nice. Rather like Great-Grandy in that way. Many people were surprised that he wasn't Wilfred Mott's son when they watched the two together. She swallowed, trying to find words. She settled on, “I'm not really sure.”

“You're a smart girl,” Sylvia snapped, her fear escaping through her tone. “I bet you can figure it out. You can certainly figure some problems out so fast, people question whether you even started.”

That was the problem here, Jenny thought. She knew far too much, and yet nowhere near enough. And yet it was a familiar one – how many times had she researched something and then discovered that the interpersonal details derailed her plans? Too often.

A knock on the door saved her from having to reply. “That'll probably be Mickey. Listen, Gran and Gramps, I'll call in the morning after I've rested. Tell everyone that I'm in a bit of shock. It's the truth. They should accept that, right?”

Sylvia sighed heavily. “Fine. Just make sure you've told your great-grandfather. He's clearly out of the house, ain't he?”

“It's his thing, Sylvia,” Geoffrey gently reminded her. “He has our girls looking out for him now.”

Jenny had to smile. Her grandparents definitely loved each other. It was clear even through the snipping that sometimes happened because of the strong personalities involved. Another knock sounded. “Love you both,” she sad softly. “Bye.”

“Bye,” they chimed as couples married for a long time could do. Though she could hear her gran's intent to talk further on the subject soon enough. She would willingly bet her future earnings on it.

As Jenny closed the mobile, she put down her tea on the nearest table, then went and opened the front door.

Mickey rushed through in an instant, a jacket on over his white shirt. “I've been phoning your mobile! You could've been dead!” He shut the door and hugged her tightly. “It's on the news and everything! I can't believe that your shop went up! There's loads on fire. Six of 'em all in a row. Which went up first? It looked like your shop when up first. What happened? Some sort of gas leak or something?”

Jenny felt tears over the care. To think she might've died today. “I'm alive, Mickey,” she whispered, unable to find anything else to say and grateful that nervousness made Mickey talk more. Just like a lot of males she knew.

He pulled back a little, eyeing her for injuries. She seemed okay, which was good. But her expression was shaken, and she was pale. “Well, what happened?”

She swallowed. Oh, God! How to explain this?! She didn't want to lie to her boyfriend. Not when he'd been there through so many things in her recent years.

Mickey didn't like her silence. “What was it, what caused it?”

Jenny swallowed, thinking quickly of something that was true but still held things back. For his sake. Just in case the Doctor, whoever he was, was right. “I wasn't in the shop, I was outside, I didn't see anything...”

He glanced at her beverage on the table. “What're you drinking?” He grabbed it and sniffed. “Tea?! No, no no, that's no good, that's no good.” He put it down. “You're in shock, you need something stronger.”

Jenny groaned. “You know I hate drinking alcohol!”

Mickey knew that, but he was worried. And he knew that her own mother would agree that his idea was sometimes the answer to letting off steam. “You deserve a proper drink. You and me, we're going down the pub, my treat. How about it?”

A sly smile crossed Jenny's lips. “Is there a match on?”

He grinned, knowing he couldn't fool her. “Well, that's not the point. We could catch the last five minutes at most. I'd rather make sure you're alright.”

Jenny waved him off playfully. “Go on then, have one for me. I'm fine, really.”

He gestured at the dummy's arm in the living room, blinking at the sight. “What's that?”

Sighing, she led him in. “Something I...found nearby. I picked it up, was gonna return it tomorrow.” How to explain her need to pick it apart?

Mickey saw she was in deep thought, escaping her emotions. “You spoken with Mr. Wilf?” That was what he called her great-grandfather.

“Not yet. He's probably up the hill.”

“Well, go see him. I'm sure he can help make sense of things.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Meanwhile, what do you need it for?”

He had a point. She nodded. “Go on, then. Get rid of it.”

Mickey grinned and gave her a kiss, lightly tickling her at the waist. She giggled and gently swat at his arms. He relented when he saw her laugh reach her eyes. “I'm glad your 'Aunt' Suzette introduced us.”

She smiled. “I'm glad she was able to help you and Jackie start fresh in Acton. Did you both a world of good.”

He picked up the arm. “You've all been a help since Gran died.” Clearing his throat, he waved with the arm as he walked backward out of the room.

“Careful!” she exclaimed. “I don't want anything breaking!”

He had a knack for managing this. He'd memorized the layout of Wilf's home. Laughing, he used the arm to wave again. “Buh Bye!”

She couldn't help but laugh as she followed him. “Bye!”

Mickey got an idea and pretended to strangle himself with the arm's hand as he walked outside. Jenny snorted. “Oh, go on!” Mickey only laughed as she closed the door. She shook her head fondly and hurried to shut off the news. Time to see Great-Grandy.

She also ignored the weird fluttering inside. It said that trouble was about. But she'd seen so many weird things today that she figured she was just on hyper-alert.

Outside, Mickey strolled with a jaunty bounce to the wheelie-bin. He opened it and chucked the arm inside. He went right to his yellow Beetle to head home.

He didn't hear the sounds of creaking plastic coming from the bin.

 

 

 

With an extra coat on to compensate for the chill in the air, Jenny was out of the house. She looked up at the sky as much as down at the ground – to not trip over a surprise.

Up the hill was a familiar walk for Jenny. She and her mum had taken it countless times over the years. Even when her mum was struggling to make ends meet, she would put aside the time to go up and watch the stars with Jenny. The time let her bond so much with her grandfather and great-grandfather, and Jenny now was a regular visitor to her great-grandfather's sanctuary.

Watching the stars had always been a comfort. It felt like there were so many journeys that could be made, so many stories to be discovered every time she looked up. She loved them so much it earned her a few nicknames growing up. Some she liked more than others. It all depended on who gave them to her.

She heard her great-granddad working for a moment in the allotment shed before he came into view. Her body relaxed on seeing him. He was as close to her mother's comfort as she could get tonight. And lord did she need it!

Wilfred Mott had a sixth sense for knowing when any of his girls were near. He glanced over to confirm. “Aye aye,” he muttered aloud with a grin, plainly happy to have company, “here comes Trouble the Younger.”

Jenny grinned widely, feeling a little lighter. He'd apparently called his granddaughter Trouble since she was four. When Jenny was learning Latin from her mother, she also read about Roman history. Talking about Elders and Youngers had led to a new nickname – for her, but _not_ for her mum. She snapped her posture to 'attention.' “Permission to board ship, sir?” She smartly saluted him, just as he'd taught her when she'd begged to learn about how soldiers and sailors acted.

He laughed and waved a bare hint of a return as he went in front of his camp chair. “Permission granted.” Her eagerness to learn about the life of soldiers had amused him – just as her overall thirst for knowledge did. Although he did his best to answer her questions, he wasn't keen on talking about the combat he'd seen. Like most people of his generation, it just wasn't done.

She relaxed, sighing as her earlier heaviness returned in force.

He looked at her, ready to joke about – until he noticed how pale she looked, even in the moonlight. His face fell. “Bad day at the shop?”

“Ha ha. Big time.” The laugh was hallow, and she knew it. She could only hide things for so long from him. Very much like her mum. Fortunately, as he sat in his chair, she had a delaying tactic. “Brought you a thermos.”

“Oh, ta.” He took it gladly, but eyed his youngest girl. She was never this quiet, even when she was thinking heavily. “What's wrong, little dawn?”

It was one of the best nicknames. One she didn't object to because it was his creation, based on her middle name. He also had a talent for coaxing things out of her. She wasn't ready, so she grabbed a tarpaulin. “You seen anything? Looks like a good night for star-gazing.”

Eh. This is odd, Wilf thought as he watched her spread the tarpaulin. She's normally completely open. Sometimes too open. “Yeah,” he said instead, putting his thermos down, “I've got Iffy, that Near Earth Object I've been tracking for several months. It was knocked out of the Martian Belt. It's a dwarf planet that's got this elliptical orbit at the moment.” He would let her have a moment to put together her thoughts. “Here,” he waved her over as she sat down, “come and see, come on, here you go, love.”

She needed no encouragement. She looked, adjusting the telescope, and saw the impact-battered planet come into focus. It reminded her of most of the asteroid pictures she'd seen over the years – dark rock, but more rounded. After all, how else could it earn the title of a planet?

“I call it Iffy because it's not clear if it'll stabilse into a moon-like orbit around Mars, or if it might hit Earth,” said Wilf, watching Jenny rather than the sky. He was looking for any clues as to what was bothering her so much. Trouble was, she could be hard to read at times. Most of the time, she was an open book – her heart worn on her sleeve. But every so often, on _rare_ occasions, she would clam up tighter than a duck's bum. That she was acting that way now was cause for concern – she'd been cheerful enough despite her mum's imminent departure this morning.

Jenny would've cringed if she hadn't heard about this before, but she doubted it'd happen. She kept looking at the nomadic object. “Suppose it did hit Earth? What would happen? Mass extinction event? Nuclear winter?”

Oh, she knew already. She just liked letting her family explain things. Made them feel more useful in the light of her extremely good memory. She also liked hearing their voices. They were all such wonderful teachers.

“Eh, it'll make the biggest bang since Krakatoa. Lots of debris in the sky, who knows what else. But I believe it won't happen. It'll pass us by. We'll get into space properly before the next big outer space rock hits Earth. In a hundred years time we'll be striding out amongst the stars. Jiggling about with all them aliens. Just you wait.”

Jenny pulled back to look him in the eye, thoughtfully. “You really believe in all that stuff, don't you?”

Ere, that was strange. She usually acted more excited about the idea that they weren't alone. She usually laughed and speculated about what they might look like. If she was thinking this much, then something major had happened. He just grinned at his youngest best girl, hoping to coax the truth from her. “I think they're all over the place these days. We just don't have the proof yet. If I wait here long enough...” He figured that gave her an opening.

Jenny thought about that for several seconds. “And what will happen if there's ever undeniable proof that aliens exist?” She looked up at the sky. “How does anyone react to seeing something that unsettles everything you ever thought about life and what was possible?” Those thoughts were running through her head ever since she'd started up the hill.

Wilf gazed curiously at her. “You know, I've known you for all of the almost seventeen years of your life, and I still don't understand half the things you say sometimes.”

She laughed through her nose. “Nor me. Least not tonight.”

“No, fair dos,” he acknowledged. “You've had a funny old time of it lately. Trouble finding work that challenges your mind.” He laughed. “We've had a devil of a time keeping up with you. Thinking of things that no one else at your age does, grasping things that only experts seem to know, or what they think they know, and all those dreams you got from your mother, bless you both.” He caught her gaze. “I wish you would tell me what really happened today. Why aren't you, the most open person I know, talking about it? What, did someone insult you again for being too smart?”

She shook her head. “No, it wasn't a case of Jane Austen's sarcastic Northanger Abbey comment being proved right that 'a woman who has the misfortune of knowing anything must conceal it as best she can.'” She imitated the accent used by Lucy Scott – the actress who played Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth Bennett's close friend, in the famous 90s BCC production of Pride and Prejudice that every Jane Austen fan she knew was in love with. (She privately suspected it was mostly due to the presence of Colin Firth.) Somehow, she imagined that might have been what Jane Austen sounded like – although she wished she could know the truth. “Believe me, that'd be easier to deal with.”

He took a deep breath. Well, that made things more confusing. “So why aren't you talking?”

Jenny sighed. It was time. “I know I _need_ to. It's just... the things I saw. I feel like I'm going mad, and I don't like it. I mean tonight I...” Oh, God, how to explain without risking that fear? She threw her hands up and thrust them behind her to support her as she leaned back, staring at the sky for comfort. “I saw things tonight that disrupted everything I believe in about the world. I know more than I'm comfortable with knowing. I was told that if I ever spoke of what happened, I might get people killed.”

“What?!” Wilf sat up straighter. “Who the devil told you that?!”

“A weird man who just might have saved my life.” She swallowed, and continued in a whisper, “A man who might've died in the explosion.”

“What explosion?!”

Jenny looked at Wilf with a sad face. “Henrick's blew up tonight. I don't know how many are dead, but I know Wilson is.”

“Oh, gawd.” Wilf sank into his chair. “You saw it?”

She nodded.

“Do you know what caused it?”

She shifted. “I...think the man might've caused it with some device. Saw it in his hand.”

Wilf stared at her. “Well, why aren't you talking about it?! Why haven't you spoken with the police yet?!”

“What if he's right, Great-Grandy? What if he did survive and found out I told someone? I don't think he's the one to fear, but what if he is? What if whatever happened in there is something dangerous and I need to keep it a secret to protect my family?” She sighed heavily, her voice pensive as she added, “I can't explain why I'm so curious about him. It's like something's drawing me toward him.”

He narrowed his eyes, slightly. That wasn't making sense at all. “Should Mickey be worried?”

She groaned. “No!” she snapped. She hated when her family made assumptions in that area. “There's _nothing_ romantic about it! _Nothing_!” She let go of that frustration when he raised his hands in a backing-off-now gesture. “It's like... I might've been able to find answers from him about a lot of things. Now I might never have any answers.” She pouted, flopping onto the ground as she let her hands out from supporting her.

Wilf reached down to touch her shoulder. “Oi, not like you to give up and not seek the answers no matter what, find a way. Even if it was the hard way, but you always learned from it. You know, remember when you were about seven, you accidentally took a sweet from the local shop – just didn't think about it?”

Jenny blushed. “Took me months to get over the embarrassment. Everyone from Chiswick, Hounslow, and Ealing knew within days, I swear.”

That got a grin. Gossip could travel fast in these parts. Especially about someone who couldn't avoid being talked about because people knew she was so smart. “Yeah, as soon as she realised what you did, your mum dragged you right back to the shop that same day and made you give over not only the half-eaten treat but your coin jar's contents. Right after that you never picked up anything without thinking about it first.”

She shrugged. “What's that got to do with tonight?”

“My point is you never stopped asking questions and looking around. You just learned to be more careful about how you went about it. Eh?” He flashed a reassuring smile. “You know you want answers. Are you going to let some weird man's words stop you? I don't see that happening! Not when you proved all those teachers wrong and that you're not the type to steal answers. Remember the science competition you were disqualified from because your project was considered too advanced? Even after you showed that you did the work by yourself?”

She laughed. “I remember their faces still. I won that fair and right. None of the teachers or judges believed that an eight year-old could know that much about astronomy, aerodynamics and the gravitational effect on time. And they still gave first place to a boy who clearly had help putting together a simplistic volcano model.”

Wilf beamed and chuckled. “Your mother's just as stubborn. I still remember her, six years old, her mother said no holiday this year. So off she toddled, all on her own and she got on a bus to Strathclyde! Hah! We had the police after her and everything!”

Jenny grinned. She liked that story. “Mum's relentless when she fixes on something. Guess it's hard for any female in this family to admit when we're wrong.”

He reached down to pat her shoulder. “You know you're your mother's daughter and your gran's granddaughter. Ha, where's she gone then? Where's that girl, hey?”

Jenny felt a lot better. “You're right.” She looked up at the sky, feeling the day seep down into the ground beneath her. “Cos the answers are still out there, somewhere. And I'll find them Gramps, even if I have to search a hundred years. I'll find them.”

He could see her energy sag a bit. The day was catching up to her, now that she was letting go. “Ere, come on, little dawn.” He held out his arms.

Tears suddenly appeared, and she pushed up and dove into his embrace, clinging to her only safe haven. One that had been there since she was born. It was the closest she'd come to one of her mother's medicinal hugs.

Wilf just held her, waiting for her to let the sobs out. What had happened to cause her so much grief?

He would have words with that man if he survived! Him and his cricket bat!

 

[Chapter 3: The Strangest of Visitors](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36912.html)  
  



	3. The Strangest of Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[cassikat](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/)'s birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[cassikat](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D

**Title** : Jenny  
**Series** : The Noble Girl – A New Who Rewrite  
**Rating** : T  
**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassikat**](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) 's birthday.  
**Disclaimer** : _Hugely_ AU. So no, I own nothing.  
**Dedication** : [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassikat**](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) , of course. Happy birthday, my friend! :D Also [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for the major help with the earlier drafts, and [](https://bas-math-girl.livejournal.com/profile)[**bas_math_girl**](https://bas-math-girl.livejournal.com/) for the final polishing advice. Love you both! (blows a big kiss)  
**Author's** _ **Extensive**_ **Opening Note** : This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know [](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/profile)[**cassikat**](https://cassikat.livejournal.com/) wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D  
  
It's easy to get the idea of taking a character and putting them into a different family situation. So, take one character from the Whoverse, transform the circumstances of her birth into something normal (or as normal as one can get in DW), and give her a different family. What do you get? Possibly this story. If you eliminate one other character.  
  
I spent a lot of time watching “Rose” to get this right. For the first time that I can remember. May I say, imagining this instead made the watching more enjoyable. I don't think I would've become interested in New Who based off of “Rose.” I didn't see anything about her to engage my interest – beyond the human sense of wanting someone in danger to be okay.  
  
  
  
[Chapter 1](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36502.html) / [Chapter 2](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36694.html)

 

 

 

  
Dear Readers, I want you to pretend that this is the start of New Who. That this is actually an episode you're watching – with added details about the characters' thoughts and respective backstories. Suspend what you know about New Who whenever possible, and pretend there are several big mysteries to be explored later on in the series. Make your comments as though you just “watched” for the first time, and see as the series progresses what you're able to accurately guess/predict. :D

This is actually more interesting to me because a certain someone auditioned to play Rose Tyler. I didn't know that until I told one of my friends about this idea. :D

 

 

 

 **Chapter 3: The Strangest of Visitors**  
  
At 7:30 in the morning, Jenny's alarm clock beeped as usual. She whacked it to silence it and sat up, pushing her duvet aside. Sighing, she muttered, “What am I going to do with today? Maybe the library? Research that man?”  
  
The door suddenly opened. Sylvia Noble stuck her head in. “Oh!” She rushed forward and hugged her granddaughter. “Thank God! You're looking alright!” She pulled back. “Now, get up! Your granddad and I are making breakfast!”  
  
Jenny resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her gran was in full overprotective mode. Explained why she and granddad got up early enough to drive over to Ealing. In no mood to dispute it, she said, “Let me get dressed and I'll be right down.” She hated it when her family just burst into her room despite a closed door. “I might've been...busy, Gran!”  
  
Not that she had been. Thought about it, yes. Done anything? No. Didn't feel right yet.  
  
Sylvia flushed ever so slightly. “A lady isn't supposed to talk about such things,” she snapped and primly walked out of the room.  
  
Jenny groaned as she pushed herself out of bed. This kind of lack of privacy was part of why she was happy Mum moved them in with Great-Grandy.  
  
Then again, her family had made sure all the inside locks were removed after she'd locked herself inside a small wardrobe at the age of three. That was the _only_ time her mother ever smacked her, and Jenny now knew her mum only did it because she was pushed so far past her limits with worry and fear for her safety. Had Gramps or Great-Grandy been around to help, the incident wouldn't have happened – one of them would have pulled Jenny aside and held her still in their lap until she couldn't take it and sagged, an admission that she knew she'd been naughty. Shocked by the smacking, little Jenny had pulled away and glared at her mother. But it didn't last more than a few seconds – she saw her mummy was crying, and she went into her arms to hug and cry with her.  
  
She cringed, rubbing her bum in remembrance. Come to think of it, she probably earned those three smacks.  
  
Later, Jenny was downstairs, wearing jeans and a blue sweater and not yet bothering with shoes, having been hugged tightly by her granddad and had a good breakfast with the family. She had to spend most of it dodging questions, trying to figure out what she could say. Of course, her gran was soon bustling around the kitchen cleaning the remains. And had plenty to say the entire time about what Jenny should do next.  
  
“Now it's fine for you to spend a day or so not doing much. You can argue that you need compensation for the emotional trauma. Question is who to get it from. But you'll need to look for a new job soon - it's no good sitting there, dressed up, looking like you're job hunting, you've got to do something! It's not like the 1980s, no one's unemployed these days!”  
  
Wow, Jenny thought, barely out of work for a night and I'm already being pushing into finding a new job. I bet the fire hasn't even been put out yet!  
  
She sat with her tea, forcing her breaths to stay even. She wasn't usually the recipient of a Sylvia nagging, but sometimes her grandmother couldn't help it. She wasn't exactly an overly affectionate person to begin with – although Jenny didn't doubt the love for her and her mother. It was just shown in different ways than most seemed used to.  
  
Although, if her grandfather and great-granddad's concerned looks toward her grandmother were anything to go by, this new nagging really _was_ happening more often than usual. Should she be worried?  
  
“How long did that job your mum had with Health and Safety last before she started her temp business? Two days, and then she changed the rules. 'I have other plans', she said. Well I'll admit she's doing alright, making that wanderlust she's had since she was little work for her, but maybe you could focus on helping her do better.”  
  
The younger blonde rolled her eyes, grateful when she felt Java, her and her mum's dog, rest her head on her lap. What, she wondered as she stroked the three years old Lab's side, did her grandmother think she would rather do? That shop job wasn't her first choice and she took it because one of her gran's friends was the one hiring! Her own mum hadn't been able to manage a reason to hire her yet, despite lots of creative thinking! University education was very expensive and everyone wanted experienced applicants, not nineteen-year-olds with four PHDs under their belts - making their chief exec's look bad.  
  
Even if she got the texts though W.H. Smiths and studied them at home, copied the curriculum requirements from the university website and then did the work at home. Sure, she had managed to swing considerable financial aid along with some stipends since her attendance was wanted, but a fair bit of Donna Noble's income went to fund Jenny's practically never-ending education.  
  
“And it's no good sitting there dreaming, no one's going to come along with a magic wand and make your life all better.”  
  
“I'm painfully aware of that, Gran.” Jenny kept her eyes on the table. She knew she sometimes had a short fuse, and it was acting up again. Petting the dog helped, although not as much today. “When Mum can swing the ability to hire me, I'll be helping her while I'm working on my next degree. I've already-”  
  
She cut herself off when she heard a rattling by the door. Java suddenly curled against the wall, tail under her as she whined. “Great-Grandy, I told you to fix that cat flap! It's not like we need it!” She stood to check, wondering what Java had heard that was outside of human hearing range.  
  
Odd, Jenny thought an instant later as she walked. I think I hear something else, too.  
  
Wilf's eyes widened. “I did it weeks back! Your mum saw me!”  
  
Jenny's eyes widened as she saw the door. The screws that he had added had fallen out onto the floor and the flap was moving violently. No way it was an animal doing that – not even a badger's paws were that good. Someone was somehow fiddling with it from the outside. The high-pitched noise sounded familiar. Heedless of the risks, Jenny opened the door. “Now listen you-”  
  
The Doctor stared at her in shock, kneeling on the ground next to where the flap had been. “What're you doing here?”  
  
She was just as shocked. “I live here. What the hell are you doing here?! How are you alive?!”  
  
He stood, ignoring her second question. “Well, what do you do that for?”  
  
She scoffed loudly and spoke tightly. “Because I do! And I'm only at home at this hour because someone blew up my job. And I think I'm looking at him!”  
  
The Doctor held up his pen-like item, not aiming it at anything. “Must've got the wrong signal. You're not plastic, are you?” He reached to knock on her forehead, but she effortlessly swatted his hand away. His eyes widened.  
  
“Excuse me?!” she snapped. “I'm as flesh and blood as they come!”  
  
“You're stronger than you look,” he commented, intrigued and puzzled. “No wonder you were able to fight back so well.”  
  
She cringed. Oops. Forgot to exercise restraint.  
  
“Jenny,” Geoffrey called out, “who's at the door?”  
  
The Doctor's eyes widened. “Clearly the wrong signal. Bye, then!”  
  
“Oh, no you don't!” Jenny grabbed him by the arm with that strength she couldn't explain. But she couldn't care less about hiding anything. “You, inside. Right now.” She yanked him inside and slammed the door.  
  
The Doctor's eyes were wider than dinner plates. It was hard to drag him along, especially by a female human! And she smelled like one!  
  
“Who is it?!” cried Sylvia as she and the others came into sight. She narrowed her eyes. “Who the hell are you?!”  
  
Java came out from the kitchen and went right up to the Doctor, smelling him intently. Her posture screamed that she was puzzled by what she smelled, especially when she sniffed again before looking at Jenny as if for guidance, letting out an odd, long whine.  
  
“Oi!” cried the Doctor, staring at the dog, who turned back to face him. “I smell perfectly fine! You're just not used to it.”  
  
Java seemed to narrow her eyes as if _she_ thought he was bonkers. But she didn't react further. Instead she sat down and continued staring at the Doctor.  
  
“Gran, Gramps, Great-Grandy,” Jenny tightly began, deliberately standing in front of the door to prevent an escape, “this man calls himself the Doctor. He saved my life last night. Doctor, this is Sylvia Noble, my maternal grandmother. That's Geoffrey Noble, her husband and my granddad. And last is Wilfred Mott, her father and my great-granddad. Oh, yes, and that's Java. She and her litter mates were very interested in me. But never mind that.” She folded her arms, and fixed her mother's best glare on him. “Now, you're not leaving until you've explained why I'm not supposed to tell even my own family what really happened last night!”  
  
Sylvia's eyes shone incandescently. “She deserves compensation. What the hell are you thinking scaring her into not talking with us, let alone the police?!”  
  
The Doctor all but rolled his eyes, clearly unhappy to be there. “Huh, we're talking millions,” he joked with a small smile.  
  
Jenny wasn't surprised when her gran slapped him for his cheek.  
  
He was floored. He couldn't remember ever being slapped. His people had other methods for keeping children in line. “Oi! Your granddaughter is in danger, and the rest of you are, too, if you learn too much!”  
  
“Now, see here!” Wilf burst forward. “I don't know who you think you are, but you have no right to deny us answers, and you're not leaving until you've given them!” He wanted to go for his cricket bat, but that was in another room, and he was needed here. So words and emotions had to do somehow.  
  
Geoffrey, normally a very mild person, was glaring. “Secrets can tear a family apart, and she's hurting because people she knows are dead – yet she's terrified to even go to the police. What can be so bad that she can't even go to the authorities?”  
  
The Doctor frowned, his cheek stinging wildly even as he rubbed circulation back to it, or from it since it was so red and hot, and sighed. He looked from person to person, and took on a reluctant resigned expression. “You'll never believe me. Too soon for things like this to be public knowledge.”  
  
Sylvia gave her version of the death stare. “Try us, Sunshine!”  
  
The Doctor's eyes narrowed. “You're just as bossy as she is!” He pointed at Jenny.  
  
Jenny rolled her eyes. “As I sort of said last night, you haven't met my mum. Gran and I are just on the same level. Now, want some coffee while you explain things? We just had breakfast, so excuse the mess.” Sarcasm dripped from her mouth even as she offered hospitality.  
  
He shrugged. “Might as well, thanks! Just milk.” He needed something if he had to deal with this many humans at once.  
  
Jenny pushed him into the kitchen, and Sylvia grabbed his arm to force him into the chair that Jenny had been sitting in. That was always the spot where 'lessons' were taught. As Jenny poured a cup, Sylvia snapped. “You should go to the police, the both of you. Why haven't you?!”  
  
The Doctor noticed a gossip magazine on top of a nearly shelf. He picked it up, looking for any distractions to avoid answering questions. Noticing the biggest images on the cover, he flipped through and commented, “That won't last – he's gay and she's an alien.”  
  
That caught everyone's attention. Jenny nearly splashed her hand with hot liquid. “Well,” she interjected before her gran could, “I've always thought those people were aliens, but then again I never enjoyed paying any attention to that. It's just one of my mother's glossies. She reads them when she wants mindless entertainment.”  
  
The Doctor's gaze had flickered up, and then he picked up a book and flipped through it from front to back in less than five seconds. “Sad ending.”  
  
“Oi! I was going to read that!” Wilf exclaimed in disbelief. “Don't you spoil it for me!”  
  
Sylvia waved her father's comment off. “They said on the news they'd found a body. Whose was it?!”  
  
“Probably the chief electrician Jenny mentioned searching for.” The Doctor put down the book and picked up an information request form from some university. He noticed two respective names written in ink – once each in print and cursive.“'Donna Eileen Noble,'” he read aloud. “'Jennifer Aurora Noble.'”  
  
“That's my mum's full name, and my own,” Jenny said, handing the Doctor his coffee and a small cup of milk.  
  
He added about half the contents. “And your mum's ginger?”  
  
Jenny rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mr. Rude and Not Ginger.”  
  
He scowled at the unhappy reminder. Instead of challenging her and finding out whether she slapped even harder than her grandmother did, he looked again at the form. “Only one parent listed. Where's your dad?”  
  
She stiffened, and snapped, “Don't know. Not that it's any of your business.”  
  
He was startled by the force of her tone, and the change in accent. Deciding to ignore it for now, he swallowed almost a quarter of the mug in one gulp. His audience was stunned as he smiled. “Good coffee. You must use filtered water. Is that Nescafe Gold Blend beans you're using?”  
  
As they stared in shock, trying to figure out how to answer that one or how he'd managed to tell which brand Wilf bought based on one sip, the Doctor's gaze fell on a small mirror resting nearby. He could see his reflection in it and his eyes narrowed at the sight. “Ahh, could've been worse!” He prodded his ears, noticing for the first time their size. “Look at the ears,” he slightly groaned as he flicked them.  
  
“Who cares about your ears and whether they might pick up telly signals in Peru?!” Sylvia shouted, stepping in the way and not caring about the affronted look she got. “Do you really expect us to think this is the first time you've seen yourself in a mirror?!”  
  
The Doctor bit back several comments and retorts. No, she wouldn't believe it. That was why he kept his mouth shut.  
  
Jenny plonked herself in the chair next to the Doctor. “And do you even care that a nice bloke died?!”  
  
The Doctor grabbed a pack of cards that Wilf had left on the table. “I don't like death. Seen too much of it for one lifetime.” Let alone nine, he thought.  
  
His tight tone suggested something particular to Wilf and Geoffrey. A quick silent exchange, and Geoffrey voiced their thought. “You sound like you've seen enough to last several lifetimes.”  
  
The Doctor flinched. He looked down at the cards. “Luck be a lady!” he sang as he shuffled them. Much faster than a human could.  
  
Jenny's irritation faded a bit as she saw him pulling something she'd only seen Commander Data do. That haunted look was back, and more intense than before. “You've lost someone.”  
  
His head whipped up to face hers, his hands dropping the cards on the table.  
  
“I don't know who you lost,” Jenny added, trying to make sense of what she sensed. “But it's left a powerful mark on you. There's been a lot – _a lot_ – of loss in your life, and you feel to blame for some of it even though you really made the best choice.”  
  
Sylvia groaned. “What now, Jenny? These little things you say you sense get really annoying.”  
  
She flicked an irritated look at Sylvia. “But I'm right, aren't I?”  
  
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, unable to look away from this mysterious human girl. “What are you, a high-level psychic?”  
  
Geoffrey shrugged. “Well, she's always had a knack for reading people. And she always knows exactly what time it is. _Exactly_. I'll show you. Jenny, how long until nine?”  
  
Her answer was crisp and immediate. “Fifteen minutes, twenty seconds, seventeen milliseconds, four hundred microseconds and two thousand and eighty-three nanoseconds."  
  
The Doctor's eyes widened. She wasn't looking at any watch or clock.  
  
“As of when you asked the question, Gramps,” Jenny added quietly, not looking away from the Doctor or his priceless reaction. The shocked look on his face was somehow very entertaining despite the circumstances.  
  
A quick look at his watch (not that he needed to, it was just to double-check) and using a rarely used setting confirmed her words. The Doctor's mouth went slack as his gaze slowly returned to her face.  
  
She shrugged uncomfortably. “Yeah, so I'm weird. I tend to hear it from someone every day. Now would you care to explain why I sense that you feel _utterly_ alone?”  
  
He had no idea how to answer that one. How could she know so much?  
  
Only the sound of scuffling behind the the sofa in the living room gave him respite. Java growled suddenly, looking in that direction. While her owners were stunned to see her normally mild manners vanish, the Doctor stood and went into the other room. “What's that then? You got a cat, too?”  
  
Wilf frowned. “No! Sandy died New Year's before last. After my wife died. I couldn't bear to get another cat.”  
  
The Doctor leaned behind the sofa and the dummy's arm from the night before leapt out and grabbed him by the neck. As though it remembered what Mickey had feigned.  
  
Sylvia screamed. Geoffrey and Wilf were frozen stiff.  
  
Jenny blinked as the dog barked wildly. “Mickey chucked that! I heard the clunk in the trash bin!”  
  
The Doctor was being strangled viciously by the hand and he tried – vainly – to fight it off. Unable to believe what was happening.  
  
Jenny grabbed a baseball bat in the corner – she'd kept it from a trip to America where she and her mum had seen a game – and slammed it against the arm. The Doctor was able to throw the hand off, but it flew into midair, seemingly paused a moment, then rushed across the room and attached itself to Sylvia's face. She shrieked like the hounds of hell were upon her.  
  
Geoffrey and Wilf grabbed at the arm, trying to help her pull it off. Jenny froze, hesitating to swing a bat near her gran's face. The Doctor pushed her aside and pulled out his weird sonic device, aiming it at the hand. Java stopped barking, and curled up with a whine. The hand fell away from Sylvia's face into Geoffrey's hands. The Doctor adjusted the settings while the fingers still twitched, until it finally stopped moving.  
  
“Sorry about the sonic noise,” the Doctor said to Java. “Had no choice. It's alright, I've stopped it,” he declared. “There you go, you see?” He took it from Geoffrey and tossed it lightly into the air. “'Armless.”  
  
Sylvia narrowed her eyes as she caught her breath. “Do you think?! Be glad it's in your hands or one of us would be slamming that into your shoulder!”  
  
The Doctor made to run out, but Jenny grabbed his arm. “Hold on a minute, don't think you can just go swanning off!”  
  
He frowned. Not the least over her strength. “Yes I can. Here I am, this is me, swanning off. See ya!”  
  
It was Wilf's turn to grab the Doctor's arm. “That plastic arm was moving, it tried to kill me daughter!”  
  
“Ten out of ten for observation,” the Doctor grumbled, trying to move away without shaking their perceptions any further.  
  
“Listen,” Jenny growled, the Chiswick blasting through in her voice again. “You haven't given me one good reason to explain why I shouldn't talk. Now that my family's seen something of what I saw last night, I think you owe us at least some of the truth. And if I'm psychic then, do you really want to test what else I can sense about you? How come when I pushed you into the kitchen I felt two heartbeats?!”  
  
That stopped his struggles. He clearly hadn't thought she could sense it.  
  
The heartbeats claim shocked Jenny's family. “Who are you?” Sylvia demanded quietly.  
  
“I told you! The Doctor.”  
  
Sylvia scoffed. “Yeah. But Doctor what?”  
  
“Just the Doctor.”  
  
Sylvia narrowed her eyes. “The Doctor,” she repeated dryly.  
  
He smiled – just a bit. “Hello!” He waved with the arm.  
  
“Is that supposed to sound impressive?” she snapped.  
  
He grimaced at her scorn. “Sort of.”  
  
Jenny sighed, vaguely aware that Java was keeping close by and was warily watching the Doctor. “Come on, spit it out! Are you some special police?”  
  
“No. I was just passing through. I'm a long way from home.”  
  
“By choice?”  
  
The Doctor froze at Wilf's words. He took a deep breath, accepting that he wasn't going anywhere just yet. “High-level psychic powers run in the family. Wonder why it skipped at least one generation. Is your granddaughter psychic?”  
  
Sylvia shifted slightly, grimacing. Did that mean there was something to the weird things her dad talked about sometimes? She hated feeling left out.  
  
Wilf blinked. “Well, that might explain some things about me.” He cleared his throat. “Right, your question. Um, I don't know about Donna, but I've wondered if Jenny is.”  
  
Jenny groaned, and dug her hands into her hair. “Look, are those things after me for a reason or was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time last night? Are they just after you?”  
  
The reasonableness in her tone – there even with the frustration – softened the Doctor's manner. “It was after me, not you. Last night, in the shop, I was there... and you came in seeking your friend, Wilson. Almost ruined the whole thing even with your impressive fighting. Although you very nearly saved yourself without any help. Well done.” He noticed four different get-on-with-it stares – five if the dog was counted – and carried on. “This morning, I was tracking it down, it was tracking me down... I would say the only reason it fixed on you is that you'd met me.”  
  
It was Jenny's turn to scoff. “So, what you're saying is, the entire world revolves around you.”  
  
“Sort of, yeah.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “You're not just full of it – you're swimming in it!”  
  
He narrowed his eyes briefly, clearly unused to this kind of insult. “Sort of, yeah,” he admitted reluctantly.  
  
Wilf interjected, “But, all this plastic stuff – what is it and who else knows about it?”  
  
“No one.”  
  
Geoffrey blinked. “What, you're on your own? There's no one else who can deal with this?”  
  
“Well, who else is there?” The Doctor eyed them each, one by one, with long-suffering patience. “I mean, you lot, all you do is eat chips, go to bed, and watch telly! When all the time, underneath you, there's a war going on!”  
  
Jenny grabbed the arm from his. “Start from the beginning. You called these things living plastic. I'll buy that for the sake of argument. How did you kill it?”  
  
The Doctor sighed. “I'm only explaining this because I have this sense that I'll be seeing you again soon. That you have some special destiny ahead of you.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “Come on!”  
  
He heard the anger in her voice, and _really_ didn't want to find out whether she slapped as hard as her grandmother did. “The thing controlling it projects life into the arm. I cut off the signal, dead.” He waved the arm again.  
  
“So that's radio control?” asked Wilf.  
  
“Thought control.”  
  
His words were met with silence. Even Sylvia couldn't find anything to say. It was all too much.  
  
“Are you alright?” He was mostly addressing Jenny, but he angled his head so it looked like he was asking all of them.  
  
Geoffrey sighed. “Sort of. So, who's controlling it, then?”  
  
“Long story.”  
  
Sylvia cleared her throat. “But what's it all for? Clearly someone isn't trying to take over Britain's shops and drive the customers mad with some price war. So what's it all about?!”  
  
The Doctor looked might into her eyes. “They want to overthrow the human race and destroy you. Do you believe me?”  
  
She blinked. “No.”  
  
“But you're still listening.” He looked right into her disbelieving, shell-shocked eyes. “I bet it's because your granddaughter has known about strange things throughout her life. Perhaps your father, too.” He took advantage of the shock to shake off the hands on his arms and move away, opening the door.  
  
Wilf shook his head. “Really though, Doctor. Tell us – who are you? Are you one of them aliens?”  
  
He froze, not looking back. Not daring to.  
  
“Is this threat from aliens?”  
  
He turned back around, thinking a long moment about how to answer that. “Do you know like we were saying? About the Earth revolving?” He walked back to stand right next to Jenny, but he addressed all of them. “It's like when you were a kid. The first time they tell you the world's turning and you just can't quite believe it because everything looks like it's standing still.” He looked right at Jenny. “I can feel it.” He took Jenny's hand, continuing over the utter silence. “The turn of the Earth.” His eyes became distant, looking away toward the open door, to the world outside. “The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour, and I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go...” He let go of her hand and slowly met her eyes again. “That's who I am. Now, forget me, Jenny Noble.” he implored quietly.  
  
Plastic arm in his other hand, he stared at her as he backed out of the house. “Stay out of this. You're meant for something important, so don't do anything to attract their attention.” He walked away then.  
  
Jenny watched his retreating back, trying to piece together the mysterious puzzle as silence reigned around her. Suddenly she found herself in her gran's arms.  
  
Sylvia was trying to not shake. “Jenny, if you ever see that man again, promise me you'll run the other way. Promise me!”  
  
Jenny surprised them both by pulling away, gently. “I know reason says I should, but my heart says he's going to need help.” She hurried outside and stopped when she saw the Doctor unlock the same blue box she saw the night before and step inside.  
  
“Aye aye!” Wilf quietly exclaimed, having stepped behind Jenny. The others were right next to him. “Where did that come from?! And how can he fit in one of those?”  
  
“I saw that last night,” Jenny muttered. “Just as I was getting in the-”  
  
All further talk was halted by grinding, wheezing, and whooshing sounds. A strong breeze blew their way. Their eyes grew wider as the blue box vanished before them, taking the breeze with it.  
  
Jenny looked at the empty space, and then around. “No one else seemed to have heard it. How the hell is that possible?!” She turned back to look at her shocked family. “I can't let _that_ go unexamined!” She rushed inside to her computer.  
  
The others looked at each other helplessly. There was no talking Jenny out of this now, Sylvia realised. Not with her own father supporting this.  
  
Truth be told, she was a bit curious, too. She just didn't want to admit to it.  
  
  
  
  
Jenny sighed as she turned on the computer – which was actually her mum's – and waited for it to wake up. The screen came back, showing her mother's favourite 80s picture of Simon Le Bon and Stephen Duffy as the background. She'd finally been able to stop rolling her eyes over the visual proof of her mother's biggest teenage crushes about three years ago. There didn't seem to be one gal of her mother's generation at that time who hadn't been obsessed with _at least_ one member of Duran Duran. And if one of them wasn't Simon, they were evidently called two-timers. _Weird._  
  
“What do I type?” she wondered aloud. “'Doctor' is too generic. What about 'Doctor' and 'living plastic'?” She clicked on the E at the top left corner, watched the browser appear, and she typed it in to her personal search engine. Not that 'search-wise.net' thing most kids her age used. She'd figured out something more comprehensive and organised. She frowned when nothing that looked even remotely relevant appeared – not any of the weird results. Super fast speed reading helped.  
  
Sighing, she thought a moment more. “Let's try...'Doctor Blue Box.' Oh, should I add 'alien'?” She frowned, and shrugged. “Try it without first.”  
  
The first result caught her attention. She read it aloud: "Doctor Who - do you know this man? Contact Clive here..."  
  
Intrigued, she clicked on it and it brought her to a webpage. A photograph of the person who called himself the Doctor – with the surroundings completely blurred – told her she was on the right track. Right alongside the picture was the following: 'Have you seen this man? Contact Clive.'  
  
She clicked on the link. “You know, Doctor,” she muttered aloud, not caring if he could hear as she rapidly typed her reason for contacting into the box. “If you wanted to run into someone who doesn't ask questions, you shouldn't try your song and dance without checking whether you were talking to the daughter of the best temp in Chiswick and therefore all of Britain.” She sent it and leaned back, arms folded in satisfaction. She would have some answers soon!  
  
  
Chapter 4: [The Shrine of the Doctors](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/37223.html)

  
  



	4. The Shrine of the Doctors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for cassikat's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D

**Title** : Jenny  
**Series** : The Noble Girl – A New Who Rewrite  
**Rating** : T  
**Author** : tkel_paris  
**Summary** : The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for cassikat's birthday.  
**Disclaimer** : _Hugely_ AU. So no, I own nothing.  
**Dedication** : cassikat, of course. Happy birthday, my friend! :D Also tardis-mole for the major help with the earlier drafts, and bas_math_girl for the final polishing advice. Love you both! (blows a big kiss)  
**Author's** _ **Extensive**_ **Opening Note** : This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D  
  
It's easy to get the idea of taking a character and putting them into a different family situation. So, take one character from the Whoverse, transform the circumstances of her birth into something normal (or as normal as one can get in DW), and give her a different family. What do you get? Possibly this story. If you eliminate one other character.  
  
I spent a lot of time watching “Rose” to get this right. For the first time that I can remember. May I say, imagining this instead made the watching more enjoyable. I don't think I would've become interested in New Who based off of “Rose.” I didn't see anything about her to engage my interest – beyond the human sense of wanting someone in danger to be okay.  
  
  
  
[Chapter 1](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36502.html) / [Chapter 2](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36694.html) / [Chapter 3](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36912.html)  


  
  


Dear Readers, I want you to pretend that this is the start of New Who. That this is actually an episode you're watching – with added details about the characters' thoughts and respective backstories. Suspend what you know about New Who whenever possible, and pretend there are several big mysteries to be explored later on in the series. Make your comments as though you just “watched” for the first time, and see as the series progresses what you're able to accurately guess/predict. :D  
  
This is actually more interesting to me because a certain someone auditioned to play Rose Tyler. I didn't know that until I told one of my friends about this idea. :D  
  
**Chapter 4: The Shrine of the Doctors**  
  
Jenny, Mickey and Wilf sat inside Mickey's Beetle and parked outside Clive's home. She'd pulled her hair back in her favorite ponytail and put on her favourite trainers before Mickey arrived. It was just warm enough she didn't need a jacket.  
  
Wilf had insisted on going when Jenny asked Mickey to go with her, much to her aggravation. “Great-Grandy!” she groaned again. “I've looked him up! He's safe. He's got a wife and kids.”  
  
Although it could've been worse. Her gran could've decided to take a holiday and go with them. Thank god she and gramps had already left when Mickey arrived.  
  
The old man sighed. “Yeah, but I can't help but worry. You're the only child of an only child. You have great people skills, but that don't stop us from worrying. Especially over someone you met over the internet. There are lunatics out there!”  
  
His great-granddaughter exhaled loudly. “Which,” she said with all the patient her fried fuse had left, “is why Mickey is going in with me.”  
  
The young man sighed. This was _not_ how he had hoped to spend his time with his woman. “Let's get this over with, shall we?” He just wanted to keep her out of trouble.  
  
“Wait!” Wilf exclaimed, suddenly thoughtful.  
  
Jenny removed her hand from the door. “What?”  
  
“Well, it might be nothing, but I just remembered something mentioned by our neighbour Minnie Manton.”  
  
Mickey smirked. “The Menace?” It was well known that the widow was a massive flirt, and was fond of Wilf. Now that it had been a bit more than a year since Eileen Mott's death, the Menace of Ealing had set her sights on Wilfred.  
  
Wilf waved Mickey's tease off – yet again. He pretended he didn't notice the attention, since it made him feel awkward – he had no clue how to talk her out of it. She was almost as stubborn as any of his girls. “She was a nurse before she retired. A group of us were at the pub talking about government programs and emergencies, and she made this off-hand joke about things sometimes needing a doctor. When I asked what kind, she suddenly flushed and refused to say anything else about it. If this is an alien who travels in a weird box, then maybe she meant him?”  
  
Mickey frowned. “If she wouldn't talk, does that mean it involved something that necessitated her signing the Official Secrets Act?”  
  
“Maybe. It'd make sense. She knows how soldiers think. She must've seen confidential things.”  
  
Jenny thought a moment. “It was a long time ago, Great-Grandy. Couldn't be the same man – he's not old enough. Maybe it's a title passed from father to son.” She shrugged. “We'll be back out as soon as possible, okay?”  
  
“All right, then.” Wilf watched as they exited the car and made their way up to the door. He leaned back into the backseat and set himself to waiting. And glared at the man who set out his wheelie-bin and shot Mickey the evil eye. Prejudiced berk!  
  
When Jenny knocked on the door, it was soon answered by a boy. He wore a red shirt, with the number 45 on the front in faded print. Hie dark hair was a near skin-head cut (just a bit longer than the Doctor's), and his eyes took a quick measure of both of them. She estimated he was about 11. “Hello!” she greeted warmly. “We've come to see Clive. We've been emailing.”  
  
The boy rolled his eyes and called into the house. “Dad! It's two of your nutters!” He flicked a look that screamed 'I'm tired of this' and 'oh great, more of them'.  
  
Jenny had to fight to not narrow her eyes. She couldn't really blame the boy, could she? Nor could she blame Mickey for exhaling in exasperation.  
  
Clive appeared a moment later. He was a plump man, wearing a dark shirt and beige trousers. “Sorry. Hello.” His accent placed him from Manchester, and he seemed like a decent chap. “You must be Jenny.” He held out his hand, which Jenny shook warmly. “I'm Clive. Obviously!” He waved his hands at himself, and extended one to Mickey. “The boyfriend you said you were bringing?”  
  
Mickey nodded tightly, not really trusting the man despite Jenny's clear conviction that all was well. He shook his hand anyway, pointing behind him with the other. “And that's her great-granddad waiting in the car, just in case you're going to kill us!”  
  
Clive laughed. The sound confirmed everything Jenny sensed, and she laughed with him. “No, good point. No murders.” He waved to Wilf, who nodded, still distrustful even though he wanted to believe.  
  
“Who is it?” called out a woman's voice from upstairs. A woman with curly brown hair appeared on the landing, carrying a laundry basket. She had a red knit top covering a white undershirt, jeans and a large buckle. She was barefoot, which made Jenny grin.  
  
Clive was quick to answer. “Oh it's something to do with the Doctor! She's been reading the website, brought her boyfriend.” He motioned them inside. “Please come through, I'm in the shed.” He started to lead the young couple through the house, with Mickey sharing an odd glance with Wilf.  
  
Mickey voiced the question. “Who's that? Your wife?”  
  
“Yes. Jenny and Mickey, this is Caroline.” He waved them further inside. “We'll be in the shed.”Jenny smiled and waved amicably at Clive's wife as she walked along. “Hello.” Mickey just nodded and smiled as he felt a gentleman ought.  
  
Caroline watched them with an ironic smile as she came down to the door, which her husband had left open. “She?” she asked the air. “ _She_ read a website about the Doctor? Sure it's not him asking?” Amused, she shut the door. Not even noticing the worried Wilf outside.  
  
Sighing, Wilf settled himself to wait. What choice did he have?  
  
  
  
  
Inside the pale blue shed, the couple looked around as Clive closed the door behind him. With the bicycle hanging from the wall, it was clearly used for storage purposes that most people would recognise. But the windows were blocked by wood. Clive clearly didn't want to chance anyone just looking inside.  
  
It wasn't immediately clear why. There were astronomy charts on one of the walls, a computer station in one corner, and books all over the place. But taking an additional look, there were piles rather carefully organised in the midst of the mess. Nine distinctly organised groupings of materials, with two being significantly smaller than the others. What was in plain sight were things about mysterious sightings, conspiracy theories, and other interests that most of the general population would attribute to nutters.  
  
“This looks like a sort of shrine to strange things,” Mickey commented darkly, whispering into Jenny's ear to make sure Clive couldn't hear.  
  
Jenny had to give Mickey credit for the observation. It hit enough notes to make her a bit uneasy, even though her instincts still swore that Clive could be trusted. She could sense more to this man than a mere anorak. He was gifted, intuitive and had had his own story to tell of a meeting with this Doctor. He was not just some random man who had picked a topic out of thin air and decided to pursue it like a fixated dog after a smell. This man had seen things. He knew, not just believed, and he also knew the danger in what he was doing and what the information could do even in the right hands.  
  
Although it didn't explain why a number of pictures in the room were partially covered by random papers. Or why each pile was under one of those papers.  
  
“A lot of this stuff's quite sensitive, I couldn't just send it to you. People might intercept it, if you know what I mean.” Clive had powered up his computer, and messed with some files while he waited. “If you dig deep enough - keep a lively mind - this Doctor keeps cropping up all over the place,” he said, turning to face them as he explained. “Political diaries, conspiracy theories,” he continued, walking slowly to join them. “Even ghost stories.”  
  
He opened the binder in his hands, placing it on the table. “No first name, no last name. Just 'The Doctor'. Always The Doctor. And the title seems to have been passed down from father to son, it appears to be an inheritance.” He motioned to the computer. “That's your Doctor there, isn't it? The one you mentioned in the email?” He pointed to a photo on the computer screen behind them. It was the same one from the website.  
  
Jenny blinked. “Yeah. That photo looks like it's from several decades ago.”  
  
Mickey looked at her. “What's your clue about the era?” She tended to have really odd tidbits of knowledge, and sometimes forgot to suppress them.  
  
She was too distracted to even think about hiding her knowledge. “Something about the surroundings. Even with that blurry effect, it looks like it's not quite up to date. Besides, who uses black and white anymore except for dramatic effect – unless it's for a really cheap local rag?”  
  
“I tracked it down to the Washington public archive last year,” Clive explained. “The online photo's enhanced, but if we look at the original...” He showed them three photographs of the Doctor. The first was the clear version of the online picture. He was standing in a crowd, his gaze happening to be toward the camera. As though he knew he was being watched. That was creepy enough. The next was a wider version, showing that the crowd – whose clothing and hairstyles reminded Jenny of photos from her gran's childhood in the 60s – was watching a motorcade. The third picture drew sharp inhales from both young people – they both realised what they were looking at. “November the 22nd, 1963,” Clive said, voicing their thoughts. “The assassination of President Kennedy.”  
  
“ _Must_ be his father,” Mickey speculated, remembering Jenny's thought from the car.  
  
Jenny frowned. “But where's his mother's genetic contribution, then?”  
  
Clive chuckled. “Good question, I've wondered that myself.”  
  
Jenny muttered on, as if she didn't hear him. “I can eliminate parthenogenesis and apomixis as forms of reproduction to create identical replacements."  
  
Mickey blinked hard. "What are those?"  
  
"Parthenogenesis is growth and development without a fertilised egg," she rattled off, distracted. "Apomixis refers to plants, say creating new life using seed or replacing the original living form with a part of itself. Neither can be the case here because the man in all these witnessed events looks exactly the same and not smaller or visibly of a different age."  
  
The two men stared at her.  
  
She realised they weren't looking at the photo, and flushed. “Sorry. Forgot I can scare people with my knowledge.” She cleared her throat. “Go on.”  
  
Shaking his head slightly over the shock, Clive carried on. “Going further back...” He hurried to another pile while Mickey stared at the Kennedy photos. “April 1912.” Jenny was watching Clive instead. “This is a photo of the Daniels family, Southampton. And friend.” He pointed at the Doctor, who was standing in the picture with them. Could have been a different man, but... the face was the same. Exactly. The photograph was blurry, so Jenny wasn't entirely sure that the clothing was the same. He might have been wearing some tie or cravet. “This was taken the day before they were due to sail for the New World. On the Titanic. And for some unknown reason, they cancelled the trip and survived.”  
  
Jenny and Mickey stared agog. “He knew what was coming and warned them?” she whispered.  
  
“And...” Clive pulled an item pinned to a wall. He showed them a sketch. “1883. Another Doctor. And look - the same lineage. He's identical. This one washed up on the coast of Sumatra on the very day Krakatoa exploded.”  
  
“The explosion so loud it probably left thousands instantly deaf,” Jenny breathed. “And 36,500 dead. The noise was recorded across the entire planet. Would have left the Doctor with a ringing in his ears for weeks."  
  
Mickey just stared at the impossibility of it all. He had no reply to her comment.  
  
Clive looked at Jenny, surprised yet impressed with her insight. “The Doctor is a legend woven throughout history. When disaster comes, he's there. He has a storm in his wake. And he has one constant companion.”  
  
Mickey looked up. “Who's that?”  
  
Clive looked grimly at them. “Death.”  
  
Both felt faint at the thought.  
  
  
  
  
Outside, Wilf sat in the car, waiting. The street was quiet. “Give them another minute, then I'm calling Jenny's phone.”  
  
He looked around as he heard something odd. His eyes widened as a bin seemed to shuffle its way towards him. “What?!”  
  
  
  
  
Clive broke the silence after a long moment. He looked right into Jenny's eyes. “If the Doctor's back... if you've seen him, Jenny ...then one thing's for certain - we're all in danger.”  
  
Mickey's hands gripped the table.  
  
Jenny just stared back, trying to reconcile all the things she sensed with Clive's instincts.  
  
  
  
  
Wilf fixed his gaze on the bin, but it was suddenly stationary. He thought he was imagining it until a few seconds later, when it moved again. “What alien madness is this?!”  
  
He stepped out of the car and walked towards the bin, looking around it to find what was moving it. Seeing nothing, he frowned and looked for a twig to open the lid. Finding none, he sighed and grabbed the lid with one hand and opened it forcefully, nearly taking it off its hinges. He glanced inside. The bin was empty, save for a little cardboard in the bottom.  
  
He was agog. “Now how's that possible?!”  
  
  
  
  
Mickey held out his hand, needing to do something. “Jenny, borrow your phone? You've got the number I need.”  
  
She handed it over and he dialed quickly, using her contacts list. He moved aside to talk quietly as the call connected.  
  
Clive moved to put away the first folder. “If he's singled you out... if the Doctor's making house calls...” He sighed and met her eyes again. “...then God help you.”  
  
Jenny looked grimly at him. “But is he the danger? Or is he _in_ danger? Does he try to make things better? What if there's just some big threat each time and he stops it?”  
  
She got a surprised look in return. He was silent for a long moment. “I don't know.”  
  
“Who is he?” she asked after a moment of silence as she heard Mickey start talking to Mrs. Manton. “Who do you think all these men are?” Her eyes flickered toward the pictures on the walls not of the man she met.  
  
“I think they are the same man. I think he's immortal. I think he's an alien from another world.”  
  
If Jenny hadn't already suspected and seen the Doctor all but confirm it, she might've wondered if Clive was some nutter. But too many questions remained unanswered.  
  
Still, Clive was convinced, and scared, but he was not insane. In fact he was stone-cold rational and sound. She couldn't explain how she knew that any more than she could why she thought she could trust the Doctor.  
  
She needed all of this, but she didn't want to scare him. So she took advantage of Clive watching Mickey to sip a data pen into the computer.  
  
  
  
  
Wilf looked around the bin some more. He hesitated at kicking it, thinking he'd set off some trap. But he couldn't see anything around, and couldn't hear anything either. He glanced around again, but there was no one. No sign of the man who put the bin out, either.  
  
"Yes, I knew a man who called himself the Doctor," Minnie Manton said over the phone to Mickey as she prepared a meal. She felt at liberty to talk because he just wanted to know about his appearance. Surely there was no harm in that. "No name. I always thought that was mysterious and exotic. He was a government advisor up at the 'Manor.' And he looked the part; a fine fellow in cape and smile. Boney nose, you know the type; all nose and no trousers."  
  
Mickey rolled his eyes. Typical Mrs. Manton - always intrigued by some bloke.  
  
Minnie continued, unaware she was slightly grossing out her listener. "He had bright deep blue eyes, like sapphires they were. Never seen eyes like 'em. And he spoke with a lisp that I really fell for. But this hair was what really caught my attention. Like a thick bands of white cotton wool it was. I used to imagine running my fingers"  
  
Mickety flinched, hard. "Thanks, Minnie, a great help."  
  
She chuckled. Spoilsport. These young ones had no sense of humour. "Your's welcome. Give Jenny and Wilf my love."  
  
Sometimes it was tricky being polite to the Menace. “Yeah. Buh Bye.” Mickey hung up and moved back to the center table. He pretended he didn't see Jenny slipping her data pen back into her pocket. “I just asked Mrs. Manton to describe who she remembered, and he sounds nothing like these men in those photos, Jenny.”  
  
Something in Clive's eyes flickered, and Jenny seized on it. “Is this the only man who's been called the Doctor? Are there other men who've been called that? And what about those photos on the wall that you've clearly covered up with papers?”  
  
Clive's tension melted slightly. “I wasn't sure you could handle this, but... yes, there have been.”  
  
Mickey's eyes widened. “How many others?”  
  
“Eight. That I know of.” Clive went to the wall he took the sketch down from and began removing the hand-written note he used to conceal one photo. “It's not clear what order they go in – they appear in almost random order sometimes. Like I said, it's a title handed down. Or not...”  
  
The image he revealed was of a man with the loudest coat either of them had ever seen. “My god!” exclaimed Jenny. “That looks like a cloth bin went through the shredder and that coat was barfed as a result!”  
  
Mickey couldn't disagree. It was the most hidious jacket he'd ever seen – all sorts of colours that just didn't go together. The blue bow tie didn't help the man's image. And then there was the man himself. His hair was blond, very curly and he had grey-blue eyes and looked like he had a wicked sense of humour, probably verging on cruel if his smile was anything to go by. And there was a certain arrogant smugness that put them both at an instant unease. "Your mum would be slapping him with both hands. Never mind that coat looks like a runaway circus violated that man's wardrobe and spat out his clothes."  
  
When Clive pulled down more notes, barely suppressing a snort over Mickey's comments, he revealed the image of a much darker haired man. The photo had been zoomed in from some distance. He was captured playing one of those recorders Jenny's remembering how her mother, gran, and great-gran had tried to get her to learn how to play when she was younger. He had an intense frown of concentration gracing his face. Jenny grimaced in empathy. She just couldn't figure the recorder out, which frustrated her since she wasn't used to _not_ eventually figuring out something she put her attention on. Finally they decided it was a waste of her time, and she hadn't thought much about it since.  
  
He had a bow tie that looked like it had seen better days (possibly all of them - twice), but the shirt looked positively ancient, and reminded Jenny of those nights when she had been small and sleeping at Great-Granny's on Friday nights. The old Co-op sheets, all striped in pastel colours. Although the colours were different, the shirt was definitely flannelette. His trousers looked rather baggy, like he was hiding a rather portly belly, which she found rather amusing since Great-Grandy and his mates couldn't care less about theirs. They said it took years and lots of beer to gain a belly so they had earned it. The picture might have been black and white, but there was something grandfatherly and gentle about this raven-haired gentleman, as well as a little silly and (something he had in common with her Great-Grandy) clownish. Especially his hair-cut, which reminded Jenny of the Three Stooges - Gramps and Great-Grandy were fans.  
  
Mickey snickered. “Nice clothes.”  
  
Clive managed a tiny smile. “The stories attached to that one say he couldn't play that recorder at all.”  
  
Snorting, Jenny watched as the image of another man was uncovered. This time it was a gray-haired man with a rounded end handle on his cane. One hand was clasping his lapels as his chin lifted in an arrogant way. His clothes reminded her of something she'd watched one night on her granddad's telly. An Edwardian dress jacket covered a white shirt with vertical ruffle pleats. His cravet was long and thin. There was something about them that made her think of the United States in the 1780s. Or was it the 1880s? In either case, it looked like someone had gifted him with that suit and he intended to honour the gift by wearing it until it wore out. “Wonder who that young girl with him is? She sort of looks like him.”  
  
Which she did. There was definite similarity in the shape of the mouths and noses – even accounting for male-female differences.  
  
“Not clear,” Clive sighed. “Although there's one account that gives her the name Susan Foreman, that she was a student at Coal Hill School.”  
  
Mickey blinked. “Never heard of it.”  
  
Jenny frowned. “I think it was in Ealing. Demolished in the clearances in 1987. My birth year.”  
  
Clive clicked them along, bringing up the image of a shorter man whose question marked clothes made both kids flinch. He wore plaid trousers, tweed jacket with a waistcoat and a red Paislet tie, a panama hat, and also wore braces. He was carrying an overly large umbrella with a question mark handle, matching his outfit, and holding a fob watch in one hand. The image caught him in the middle of twirling it.  
  
“My God!” exclaimed Mickey. “He looks like someone you'd see in a cartoon!”  
  
Something about his eyes made Jenny wonder if the man knew hypnosis. He just might have been good at it. “Think that fob watch ever flew off his hand?”  
  
The next photo Clive uncovered was of another gray-haired man, but next to it was the photo it had been cropped and blown up from. An informal photo during what looked like downtime in the officer's mess. Some woman in uniform serving tea. Another woman, who looked like a young Minnie Manton (or whatever her name had been at the time) handing out slices of homemade cake. Jenny guessed the occasion was the birthday of the highest ranking man in the picture. The man who was in both the close-up and the original was seated near a hat stand in the corner. The stand a cape hanging up on it. He was wearing green velvet smoker's jacket. She was sure it had a designer name, but god knew what it was “He seems almost as grandfatherly as Gramps or Great-Grandy,” Jenny noted.  
  
Mickey pointed at him numbly. “I think he matches the description Mrs. Manton gave me. And that's her with the cake slices!”  
  
“That I got from a person who was cleaning out a deceased relative's belongings,” Clive remarked. “He had no use for the photos, and contacted me more because of the note on the back. I made a copy cropped and blown up to show only him.” He tapped the image of the man in both images. “This is the only known photo of this man, although there are accounts about him from a few other occasions.”  
  
Next photo Clive pulled out was of a blonde man, wearing what looked like a white cricketing jumper – with a slightly longer coat. He was much younger than the others, with a gentle, caring look to his face and eyes. A face you could instantly like and trust. And with his outfit he obviously was more a fun man than a sporting type, although it was obvious that he played.  
  
Mickey blinked, and glanced at Jenny, promptly looking back at the picture. “That's weird,” he muttered confusedly, shaking his head hard.  
  
“I'll say,” Jenny snorted, not noticing her boyfriend's scrutiny. “What's with the celery stick in his coat?!”  
  
Clive's mouth twitched. “I've wondered about that myself. None of the sources say.”  
  
Then came a dark-haired man with a definitely old-fashioned outfit. A dark green velvet frock coat with a silver waistcoat an matching cravat. Rather tight trousers, as was the custom of the time, although it looked more like a costume than the genuine article. He had the air of a man who met life with enthusiasm, and could draw you into the excitement rather easily.  
  
Jenny chuckled. “He looks like he could've played Mr. D'Arcy.” Good thing Mum isn't here, she thought, Dad might have had competition. Although that blonde man with celery stick might've caught her eye, too.  
  
Mickey groaned. “Embarrassing enough that your mum, gran, and my adoptive mum love that book. Add the movie?!” He shook his head and happened to look down below that picture, frowning. “Why are there hardly any papers below that one?”

  
Clive frowned. “This is the only picture in existence of this man that I know of. He looks like a rich, titled gentleman from the Regency era, I agree. Like he never worked a day in his life. This photo is also attached to the only story existing about him. He appeared in San Fransisco on the 31st of December, 1999. Under _very_ mysterious circumstances. That one with question mark clothing also appeared about then, but briefly. It's said he was shot.”  
  
Jenny and Mickey exchanged confused and concerned looks.  
  
“Here's the last one,” Clive said, bringing up a picture of a curly dark-haired man with the longest scarf imaginable. He had the curliest hair and biggest toothiest grin that had ever existed, including several unpronounceable carnivores from the Triassic. And the wildest, widest eyed look either could imagine. The photo was focusing on that.  
  
Mickey and Jenny looked at each other. “The Mouth of Sauron would've envied him,” she muttered. That character might be in the extended editions to be released later that year.  
  
  
  
  
Wilf sighed, not finding anything to answer his questions. He shut the bin, still with one hand. He moved away, but the bin stretched out, stuck to his hand. “What the devil?!” He pushed against it with his other hand, but it didn't work. The bin seemed to stretch as he pulled away with all his strength. His throat couldn't make any sounds. He tried stepping away, but suddenly the lid opened, a low roar coming from the bin.  
  
He pulled hard, and that seemed to make the bin shut, but his hands weren't free. He tried pulling harder. The lid slowly opened a little, closing before suddenly opening wide. Wilf felt the stretchy things holding him hostage pull sharply. He flew into the air, falling in before he could react to scream.  
  
It shut after him. Seconds later, it opened slightly to let out a disturbing, satisfied burp.  
  
  
  
  
In the back garden, they had had enough and were heading out of the shed. Clive followed the thoughtful duo, shutting and locking it behind them.  
  
Jenny turned. “You're sure there's no connection between any of those men?”  
  
“None,” Clive stressed on a whisper. “No one I've spoken with can come up with one. Aside from the title and the object that looks like one of the old police boxes.” He hesitated. “I do have an idea...”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Mickey wanted to tug Jenny away, but he knew better than to try to dissuade her when she had her mind fixed on something. She always found a reason – a real one – to finish her task. Only her mother could talk her out of them consistently.  
  
Clive pursed his lips. “If he is an alien, then he might be capable of changing his appearance. Which would make all of those men the same person.”  
  
Mickey thought his eyes couldn't possibly get any larger without bursting out of his head.  
  
Jenny nodded, thinking over the abundance of info. “Thanks for the copies of those photos. I'll let you know if I find anything.” She shook his hand.  
  
He smiled back. “Thank you for listening. I'll think about what you said.”  
  
She nodded. And he still had no idea she'd copied his computer data. Good, she thought. He didn't need to be scared further. She sensed that he was at the edge of his wits and in fear of his life. Just his gut feeling prickling him to get out or get rid of all this stuff. That something bad was about to happen, because he was the first to ask such direct questions, whereas the rest had been avgue and mostly other anoraks bringing him more stuff.  
  
Maybe there was something the idea that people could smell dear. Maybe there was also a scent that marked insanity?  
  
  
  
  
The two walked out to the car. “You really going to tell him?” asked Mickey.  
  
Jenny kept her head still, looking at the ground ahead. “Not sure yet. Depends on what I find.”  
  
They got into the car, Mickey back in the driver's seat and her in the front passenger's. “See, we're fine!” she said to the man in the back.  
  
“I'm still convinced he's a nutter,” Mickey grumbled.  
  
Neither noticed that the smiling person in the backseat wasn't Wilfred Mott, but a plastic replica. His hair and forehead were too shiny. Each was too distracted with their own thoughts.  
  
“Great-Grandy? I'm hungry. I thinking of pizza if you don't mind.”  
  
“Pizzaaa! P-p-p-pizza!”  
  
Mickey drove off, only blinking a moment over the lack of questions. Mind, he wasn't sure he wanted to talk more about this weird Doctor. So the silence was welcome.  
  
  
  
  
Later in the day, Jenny and Mickey sat at a table for four in the pizza restaurant. Next to Jenny was a grinning 'Wilf'. The two still hadn't noticed, even when Jenny helped what she thought was her great-granddad out of the backseat. It wasn't very crowded, which allowed her time to think in peace. Her family and friends knew to give her that every so often.  
  
“I'll look for a new job tomorrow,” she decided after a while. “I mean, I've only been putting off more education because I'm not sure what to study and we need money to put me through. I'm too old for scholarships and those don't pay for everything, even if all the universities want you. I could still study for medical school, or go into engineering. Or do both at the same time. Might not be worth looking into _this_ any further.” She sighed heavily, looking at Mickey in frustration. “Of course, I might run into the problem of people assuming I stole something from someone more experienced if I go for engineering,” she added, grumbling. “I hate having to play thick.”  
  
He grimaced, remembering more than one occasion where she'd suffered because no one believed she was genuinely that creative and smart.  
  
“So, where did you meet this Doctor?”  
  
The question threw her off. Her great-granddad knew the answer to that question. He had met the Doctor that morning! And the tone seemed wrong somehow. She looked up at his face, but all questions fled – along with a bit of the colour in her face – as she realized something else was very, _very_ wrong.  
  
“Because, I reckon it started back at the shop, am I right? Is he something to do with that?”  
  
Now Mickey realised that it didn't really look like Wilf was the one sitting with them. Or sound like him. His mouth dropped.  
  
‘Wilf’s’ eyes glittered as he leaned closer from the hips towards his great-granddaughter. “What was he doing there?”  
  
Jenny and Mickey jumped back as one, knocking their chairs over. “Who the hell are you?!” they cried, ignoring the odd looks from other customers.  
  
A waiter approached the table, seemingly unfazed. “Your champagne.”  
  
“We didn't order any champagne,” said the Plastic Wilf. He grabbed Jenny's hand. “Where's the Doctor?”  
  
Mickey tugged at Jenny, who was trying to shake the plastic hand. Neither of them paid the waiter any attention.  
  
“Well, then!”  
  
The waiter's voice suddenly sank into Jenny's awareness. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized it was the Doctor.  
  
The Doctor grinned and shook the bottle. “Don't mind me.” His voice was tight despite the grin. “I'm just toasting the happy family.” He aimed the top directly at Plastic Wilf. “On the house!” He released the bindings holding the cork in.  
  
The cork popped out and hit a startled Plastic Wilf squarely on the forehead, distorting it. The shock allowed Jenny to free her hand, but the forehead rapidly absorbed the cork. He chewed for a moment and spat it out of his mouth. Plastic Wilf kept smiling. “Anyway.” His hands turned into paddle-like clubs and he smashed the table in. Jenny was too shocked and horrified to scream. Mickey had to drag her out of the way.  
  
The Doctor grabbed the creature's head, stopping it from hurting anything. He struggled against it for five seconds. Jenny heard a creaking noise before the Doctor suddenly pulled its head off, the momentum throwing him into a nearby table where a couple Jenny's mum's age sat in shock. The rest of Plastic Wilf crashed into a different table.  
  
The disembodied head stopped grinning for a moment, and met the Doctor's gaze as he righted himself. “Don't think that's gonna stop me.” The headless body stood up.  
  
The couple at the nearby table finally screamed. The Doctor grinned, as if knowing something neither they nor the creature did.  
  
Mickey saw the “break in case of fire” spot and did just that. As the alarm blared, he shouted, “Everyone out! Now!”  
  
  
Chapter 5: [Under the Eye of London](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/37522.html)

  
  



	5. Under the Eye of London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for cassikat's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D

Since cassikat begged so nicely, I finished cleaning this up early. :)

 **Title** : Jenny  
**Series** : The Noble Girl – A New Who Rewrite  
**Rating** : T  
**Author** : tkel_paris  
**Summary** : The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for cassikat's birthday.  
**Disclaimer** :  _Hugely_  AU. So no, I own nothing.  
**Dedication** : cassikat, of course. Happy birthday, my friend! :D Also tardis-mole for the major help with the earlier drafts, and bas_math_girl for the final polishing advice. Love you both! (blows a big kiss)  
**Author's** _ **Extensive**_ **Opening Note** : This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D

It's easy to get the idea of taking a character and putting them into a different family situation. So, take one character from the Whoverse, transform the circumstances of her birth into something normal (or as normal as one can get in DW), and give her a different family. What do you get? Possibly this story. If you eliminate one other character.

I spent a lot of time watching “Rose” to get this right. For the first time that I can remember. May I say, imagining this instead made the watching more enjoyable. I don't think I would've become interested in New Who based off of “Rose.” I didn't see anything about her to engage my interest – beyond the human sense of wanting someone in danger to be okay.

 

 

[Chapter 1](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36502.html) / [Chapter 2](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36694.html) / [Chapter 3](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36912.html) / [Chapter 4](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/37223.html)

 

 

 

  


**Chapter 5: Under the Eye of London**  
  
Everyone immediately ran for the exit. Plastic Wilf's body continued blindly smashing tables with his club-like hands. Except its movements were heading toward where the Doctor was.  
  
“Get out! Get out! Get out!” Mickey kept shouting, still holding onto Jenny's hand. The people fled in the opposite direction. Mickey was ready to drag the numb Jenny with him to join the crowd.  
  
Suddenly, the Doctor – still holding the plastic head in one hand – grabbed Jenny's other hand and tugged her in the other direction. Mickey was dragged behind them as they ran through the kitchen and out of a back exit.  
  
Even headless, the creature was in hot pursuit, slamming against things and yet not slowed. The Doctor locked the metal door with his weird sonic device while Mickey and Jenny looked around desperately for an escape out of the yard they were in. They rushed to a wooden gate, banging wildly on it when they found it was locked.  
  
“Open the gate!” Jenny cried. “Come on, you alien! Use that sound thing, then!”  
  
“What, this?” he blandly asked as he walked away from the door, as if holding a head that looked almost exactly like a person's was nothing. “Sonic screwdriver.”  
  
“We don't care what you call it!” shouted Mickey. “Use it!”  
  
The Doctor just grinned. “Nah. Tell ya what, let's go in here.”  
  
Jenny whipped around to snap at him, but her words stilled when saw a police box – the very same one from last night and this morning – in the middle of the yard. He approached it, calm as you like, and unlocked the doors.  
  
The creature was making dents in the door from the other side. Mickey stared at it, and then shouted at the Doctor. “We can't hide inside a wooden box!” He shoved at the gate, rattling the chains as hard as he could.  
  
Jenny, however, wondered again how he could fit inside and rushed to the door. What her eyes saw didn't match with what she knew about those boxes, let alone physics. She rushed around it, seeing and feeling an ordinary tall rectangular object that felt like it had a lot of years behind it, but inside...?  
  
“It's gonna get us!” Mickey cried as he kept up the rattling, not making any progress.  
  
Jenny stuck her head into the police box. She looked around at the giant room inside, and felt warmth and humming that she couldn't explain. Her mouth was slack. “Doctor?! Can't it follow us in here?!”  
  
He didn't even look up from whatever he was doing with the head as he walked around the centre of the room. “The assembled hoards of Genghis Khan couldn't get through that door, and believe me, they've tried.”  
  
Jenny blinked. "Genghis Khan? Surely you're not talking about the Chinese Restaurant on Acton Road, are you? I know the bloke's got five sons, but 'army' might be pushing it."  
  
His eyes flickered up to her. Be serious, they silently said. Then he went back to his work.  
  
Her jaw dropped. "Then," she whispered, "you surely must be talking about the Genghis Khan... but that was centuries ago..." Her eyes darted around the room. "Maybe it's a family heirloom... unless..." As the possibility emerged in her mind her voice went just barely loud enough that she could hear her words: " _It's a time machine_?"  
  
Suddenly Clive's pictures made more sense. How this alien could look the same across the pictures. Weighing the odds in nanoseconds, she made a quick decision based on her instincts. “Mickey, get in!”  
  
Mickey hesitated, but by that time the creature had made a hole in the door. He ran for the open door of the box, and he and Jenny rushed inside, slamming the doors shut after them. Panting as he turned around, Mickey's already overworked mind found something new to process. “But... but-”  
  
“Please shut up a minute!” snapped the Doctor. “I'm doing delicate work.” He was wiring up the head of the creature – it still had a smile on its face – to the central area of the room. It could have been a console, but it such a mess of stuff that 'console' seemed an overstatement to Jenny's stunned mind.  
  
Mickey stood trembling near the door, looking around at how huge it was compared with the outside. “What the hell have we walked into?” he whispered.  
  
Jenny slowly walked around the room. It was orange, with a huge domed ceiling held aloft on stanchions that looked like living coral. And they were warm to the touch, as if alive. The floor was a grated surface that showed off the white light coming from below. The centre was a tall glass tube - emitting a pale greenish light from its odd items inside - that stretched from the floor up the ceiling where something equally huge and monstrous lay hidden, snoring loudly. Around the base of the tube was a metal gantry surrounding the 'console' of strapped together junk salvaged from junk yards and crash sites by the look of it. And the only seating in the entire room was a flight seat, probably taken from one of those single-prop planes you only saw in air shows and museums. This strange bloke wasn't thinking of company, she mused.  
  
“You see, the arm is too simple, but the head's perfect.” The Doctor seemed unaware of the emotions and thoughts of the other two. “I can use it to trace the signal back to the original source. Right.” He took a break and turned to face Jenny, giving her his full attention as she completed her circuit around the room. There was something about the girl that encouraged him to be honest, even though he hated admitting to private things. He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. “Where do you want to start?”  
  
Mickey, in an unusual twist of events, found his voice first. “Um... the inside's bigger than the outside?”  
  
His eyes flickered to the young man's. “Yes.”  
  
“It's alien.”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“So you're an alien then?”  
  
He didn't hesitate to admit it. “Yes.”  
  
Mickey stared in shock. Jenny just stared evenly at the Doctor, hiding her shaking insides and heavy heart.  
  
The Doctor looked at Jenny, as if wanting her approval. “Is that alright?”  
  
Mickey couldn't answer. Jenny fixed a steady gaze on the Doctor. “Yeah,” she breathed. “And I think I can trust you, despite every bit of reason saying I shouldn't.”  
  
That didn't help Mickey's already frazzled mind.  
  
The Doctor smiled gently at the girl from Earth. “It's called the TARDIS, this thing. T-A-R-D-I-S, that's Time And Relative Dimension In Space.”  
  
Jenny blinked. “Why did I feel a flash of... irritation that wasn't mine when you called your box a thing?”  
  
The Doctor blinked, his jaw dropping. His mouth worked for a few seconds before words came out. “Oh... Well done, yes. We're inside a sentient spaceship. _She_ can hear what we say. She can also feel your thoughts and feelings. And when you touch her. Nothing is sacred in here. So, unless you ask nicely, she'll see, hear and know it all."  
  
Jenny's eyes widened further, mouth falling completely open. A living spaceship! Oh my god!  
  
Mickey choked on a sound that he normally would've been embarrassed to realize was a cry.  
  
Facing Mickey, the Doctor's voiced sounded like he was trying to remain patient. “That's okay. Culture shock. Happens to the best of us.”  
  
Jenny slowly approached the Doctor, fighting tears. “Did those things kill my great-granddad?” she asked in a choked whisper.  
  
The Doctor paled slightly. The sight of someone so upset and yet managing to control their reaction surprised him. Especially given her age. “Oh... didn't think of that,” he reluctantly admitted.  
  
Now Mickey found his voice. “He's my girlfriend's only surviving great-grandparent! You pulled off his head - they copied him and you didn't even think?! And now you're just going to let him melt?!”  
  
“Melt?!” Jenny shouted as she and the Doctor turned around in time to see Plastic Wilf's head deflating, letting out some brownish fluid with a bubbling noise.  
  
“Oh, no no no no no! _No_!” The Doctor ran frantically around the console, pressing buttons and pulling levers.  
  
“What're you doing?!” Mickey shouted.  
  
“Reviving the signal, it's fading! Wait I've got it...” He looked at the screen, and blanched. “No no no no _no_!” He flipped a lever, and then the TARDIS shook.  
  
Jenny and Mickey instinctively each grabbed a nearby column, and held tight as the room creaked and groaned, tilting even. The whooshing sounds Jenny heard earlier that day were back, all around her.  
  
“Almost there! Almost there! Here we go!” The TARDIS suddenly stopped her tilting and shaking, falling silent, although Jenny could still hear the humming – a bit louder than before. The Doctor suddenly ran out the TARDIS doors without another word.  
  
Jenny and Mickey stared agog. “You can't go out there! It's not safe!” they shouted as one. They exchanged disbelieving looks and followed him outside.  
  
The Doctor groaned silently as he walked. “I lost the signal, I got _so_ close.”  
  
As the two rushed out, they stared around as they realized they were in another part of London. The Thames at night greeted them. Boats and other vessels were docked nearby. “We've moved!” Mickey exclaimed. “It flies?!”  
  
“Disappears there, reappears here, you wouldn't understand.” The Doctor was distracted, not paying much attention to them as he leaned against a railing.  
  
Jenny recovered her voice. “So what about that headless thing? Is it still on the loose, or did it melt with the head?”  
  
“It melted with the head.” He pushed himself off and walked back passed them. “Are you going to witter on all night?”  
  
“Witter?!”  
  
The Doctor froze, staring with questioning wide eyes as her accent changed with her emotions. This was the fourth time this had happened. He folded his arms. “Why does your accent change when you get upset?”  
  
Jenny rolled her eyes. “Fine! I have a Berkshire accent, yet I never heard one before my 12th birthday. Strong emotions make me sound like my mum. She grew up in Chiswick, where I was raised. But that's beside the point! What kind of an alien are you? What the hell do you think you're doing?!”  
  
“I'm trying to save the life of every _stupid_ ape blundering on top of this planet, alright?!?!”  
  
Mickey flinched. That kind of tone guaranteed a retort of epic proportions from any Noble female. Or a Mott.  
  
Jenny's eyes flashed with so much fire that the Doctor's eyes widened further and he took a step back in shock, dropping his arms to his sides. She felt no reassurance from that. Her tone became lethal in its coldness, flatness.  
  
“Let me try to explain something, Doctor. I'm an only child. I don't know where my dad is because my mum panicked the weekend they met and ran away, scared by how strongly she felt. She's regretted that ever since. I could tell even if no one had told me that. My mum is an only child. She has cousins on Gramp's side, but they're scattered all over and aren't really dependable in a crisis. All I've had for a family are my mum, her parents, and Gran's parents. Gramps' died when I was little. Great-Gran died two Christmas' ago. If Great-Grandy is dead, then I've lost a quarter of my remaining family today and half of the pair that's tried to make up for my not having a dad. All because he encouraged me to keep looking for answers, which is my instinct.”  
  
The Doctor paled as he saw tears roll freely down her face.  
  
“Are you happy, Doctor?! Because your words have come true!! You might go off and save the world, but I have to live with the consequences of what happened!! I have to tell the rest of my family!!”  
  
Mickey rushed to fold her into his arms as her last words cracked on a cry. He held her tight as tears flowed like a waterfall. He glared at the Doctor, who stared with a slack jaw and even wider eyes. “Mr. Wilf was my good friend!” he shouted over her cries. “He taught me about astronomy, about being a man. Jenny's whole family has practically adopted me since we all met. I don't have much family to call my own, either. My dad disappeared before I was a year old and my mum abandoned me when I was four, left me to be raised by my gran - who died earlier this year. I'm practically a replacement child for a family friend who lost her husband and infant daughter to a car hitting them. _I heard the accident_! I was only five years old! If you're just going to deliver bad news, then go and leave us be!” He tugged her away, intent on finding a path back to the car. If that thing had melted, then it was safe again.  
  
The Doctor watched their progress with heavy eyes and heavier hearts. He'd seen humans cry before. He'd seen children cry before, and hated that. But this one Earth girl... what was it about her that gripped him, left him unable to do anything other than help her? He sighed sadly. “Jenny. Mickey.” He followed them.  
  
Mickey opened his mouth to snap, but Jenny stopped him by gripping his sleeve tightly for an instant. He released her enough to let her turn in his arms to face the Doctor, her face streaked with tears – wet and drying.  
  
Taking a long look at her, the Doctor realized he hadn't seen someone look that sad or haunted since his few friends who hadn't been consumed by the Last Time War realized the extent of the sacrifice that had to be made for the sake of the universe. “Jenny,” he began softly, “I have a long history with trouble. Either I find it or it finds me. I try to stop deaths, to give people chances. Sometimes I can't. That's why I told you to not speak of what happened in that shop – I was hoping that the Autons would focus on me and leave innocents – like you – out of it.”  
  
“Autons?” interrupted Mickey.  
  
He spared the young man a glance. “That's what those animated dummies are called.” He turned back to Jenny. “I sense a lot of great things in your future, Jenny Noble, and I wanted to ensure that they happen – whatever they are.”  
  
She scoffed, the sound coming out like a cough. “Really?”  
  
“Yes. I don't know what, but I'm positive that destiny has many important plans for you. I hadn't counted on you being so stubborn and smart about things, so – since you've found out this much – I'll tell you something that's important to you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, ignoring Mickey and trying to look reassuring. “There's a good chance your great-granddad is still alive.”  
  
Jenny and Mickey's eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat.  
  
The Doctor smiled gently. “The replica's head was perfect. To get that good a result, the Autons need the original person living. So it's possible that I may be able to rescue him, which I will do what I can to make happen. I promise.”  
  
Mickey looked at him like he was trying to morph into a gasping fish. “You couldn't have told her that back inside your ship?!”  
  
Jenny sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I believe him.”  
  
The Doctor's smile grew a bit. Mickey's face drew into a stunned frown.  
  
“No lying to me though, Doctor,” she added. “I might be a child in many ways, but don't treat me like I'm just a _stupid_ ape!” Her voice rose slightly, but remnants of grief still held sway over her.  
  
When the Doctor nodded solomnly, Mickey sighed. He decided to re-establish some normalcy by asking some questions. “Doctor. If you're an alien, how come you sound like you're from the North?!”  
  
Smile lost, he folded his arms indignantly. “Lots of planets have a North.”  
  
“Sounds like a touchy subject,” Jenny noted quietly. She glanced at Mickey to urge him to cool it a bit – this alien might be her great-grandy's only hope.  
  
Mickey sighed. He changed tacks and gestured at the thing they'd just travelled in. “What's a police public call box?”  
  
The big smile returned to the Doctor's face. He led them back to it. “It's a telephone box from the 1950s,” he answered with a bigger grin, patting the TARDIS fondly. “It's a disguise.”  
  
Jenny found a smile as she shook her head. “I thought they were a temporary holding cell.”  
  
The Doctor shrugged. “They were,” he said, adding after a beat, “The real ones, I mean.”  
  
Mickey sighed, still holding on to Jenny with one arm. “Okay. And this living plastic, what's it got against us?”  
  
The alien took a breath, as if moderating his tone. “Nothing, it loves you.” It came out gently, like he was trying to soften a blow a bit – out of respect for Jenny's earlier reaction. “You've got such a good planet. Lots of smoke and oil, plenty of toxins and dioxins in the air... perfect. Just what the Nestene Consciousness needs. Its food stock was destroyed in the war, all its protein plants rotted, so Earth... dinner!” He couldn't help the smile at the end, though. Or the eating with utensils motions.  
  
Jenny glanced at Mickey. She said, dryly, as she wiped more tears away, “Yeah, he needs lessons in blending in.”  
  
"Lessons!" he blurted indignantly. "I'll have you know I blend in perfectly. Not like you, all pink and yellow, and dressed in processed animal skins and plastic."  
  
Mickey looked back and forth between his girlfriend and the Doctor. If not for the fear for Mr. Wilf, he probably would have laughed at the insulted expression on the alien's face.  
  
To avoid a scene, Jenny quickly changed the subject. Despite not liking being called 'pink and yellow' – she didn't terribly care for either colour anyway. “Any way of stopping it?”  
  
Grinning suddenly, the Doctor produced a tube of blue liquid from his jacket. “Anti-plastic!” he announced dramatically.  
  
Jenny and Mickey were dubious. “Anti-plastic?” they chimed.  
  
He nodded seriously. “Anti-plastic! But first I've got to find it.” He walked a little away with a frown, back toward the water as he put the tube away. “How can you hide something that big in a city this small?”  
  
“Hide what?” Jenny asked.  
  
He looked back at them. “The transmitter. The Consciousness is controlling every single piece of plastic so it needs a transmitter to boost the signal.”  
  
Mickey frowned. “And what's it look like?”  
  
He looked at Mickey with a look that seemed universal for You Are An Idiot. “Like a transmitter.” he walked along the path, the two following him. “Round and massive, slap bang in the middle of London.” He looked around as he spoke, looking around intently as he passed a memorial to the Second World War. “A huge circular metal structure... like a dish.”  
  
His voice trailed off as he turned to face the couple, his back to the railings of the bridge. Jenny noticed then that the London Eye loomed above them, encircling the Doctor's head like an enlarged halo from one of the old Byzantine mosaics at the angle she was looking from.  
  
“Like a wheel,” he continued, oblivious to her focus. “Close to where we're standing. Must be _completely_ invisible.” His frustration dripped in buckets.  
  
Mickey then noticed the Eye behind him. The intensity of their gazes caught the Doctor's attention. “What?” he asked.  
  
They nodded towards the Eye. The Doctor turned around, then back to them, completely nonplussed. “What?” he demanded.  
  
Both of them scoffed. Mickey shook his head, looking at the Eye still. “How can you save lives when you miss such glaringly obvious details?!”  
  
The Doctor turned around again but still didn't make the connection. He frowned at them. “What is it? What?!”  
  
Jenny groaned and marched over to his side. “Here.” She grabbed his shirt collar and yanked his head down to her height. “What am I pointing at up there?! It was haloing your head!”  
  
Mickey followed, suppressing a snicker as she put yet another male in an undignified position. He hoped the Doctor knew it.  
  
The Doctor turned his head again, eyes following her finger. It finally clicked. “Oh... fantastic!” He grinned inanely and grabbed Jenny's hand. “Come on, both of you!”  
  
Mickey grabbed her other hand before the Doctor could start to run off with her. He knew Jenny would've followed anyway, and he admitted to himself that he would go a fair way to help save Mr. Wilf.  
  
  
Chapter 6: [Seeing Them Off](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/37645.html)

  
  



	6. Seeing Them Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for cassikat's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D

**Title** : Jenny  
**Series** : The Noble Girl – A New Who Rewrite  
**Rating** : T  
**Author** : tkel_paris  
**Summary** : The lives of a blonde teenage shop girl and her boyfriend are transformed forever when someone called the Doctor saves her life. Only...the girl isn't Rose Tyler. Written for cassikat's birthday.  
**Disclaimer** : _Hugely_ AU. So no, I own nothing.  
**Dedication** : cassikat, of course. Happy birthday, my friend! :D Also tardis-mole for the major help with the earlier drafts, and bas_math_girl for the final polishing advice. Love you both! (blows a big kiss)  
**Author's** _ **Extensive**_ **Opening Note** : This idea was floating around in my head because I thought that a certain character looked more like another character than the one who was her (sole) parent in canon. And I know cassikat wanted a Nine story without Rose. So we both get our wish here! :D  
  
It's easy to get the idea of taking a character and putting them into a different family situation. So, take one character from the Whoverse, transform the circumstances of her birth into something normal (or as normal as one can get in DW), and give her a different family. What do you get? Possibly this story. If you eliminate one other character.  
  
I spent a lot of time watching “Rose” to get this right. For the first time that I can remember. May I say, imagining this instead made the watching more enjoyable. I don't think I would've become interested in New Who based off of “Rose.” I didn't see anything about her to engage my interest – beyond the human sense of wanting someone in danger to be okay.  
  
  
  
[Chapter 1](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36502.html) / [Chapter 2](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36694.html) / [Chapter 3](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/36912.html) / [Chapter 4](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/37223.html) / [Chapter 5](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/37522.html)  
  


  
  


Dear Readers, I want you to pretend that this is the start of New Who. That this is actually an episode you're watching – with added details about the characters' thoughts and respective backstories. Suspend what you know about New Who whenever possible, and pretend there are several big mysteries to be explored later on in the series. Make your comments as though you just “watched” for the first time, and see as the series progresses what you're able to accurately guess/predict. :D  
  
This is actually more interesting to me because a certain someone auditioned to play Rose Tyler. I didn't know that until I told one of my friends about this idea. :D  


**Chapter 6: Seeing Them Off**  
  
The three ran across London Bridge towards the Eye, ignoring the light traffic on the street. Jenny was grinning as much as the Doctor. She loved running. Even with the dire threat and the uncertainty of her great-granddad's fate, this was sort of fun! The only thing that could make it better was if Mickey could find something to enjoy about it. Although it might be too big an ask for him under the circumstances.  
  
Well, and Great-Grandy and Mum being there, too. He to add to the joy, her being the voice of reason.  
  
They soon came to a halt at the foot of the Eye. “Think of it,” the Doctor continued explaining while Mickey caught his breath. “Plastic, all over the world. Every artificial thing waiting to come alive. The shop window dummies, the phones, the wires, the cables...”  
  
Jenny flinched. Words tumbled out quickly. “Artificial joints and heart valves, tracheotomy tubes, otstomy tubes, even replacement skulls, protheses, epilepsy and fibrillation implants, stents..."  
  
Mickey blanched. “Computers, mobiles, wheelie-bins, cars...”  
  
“The breast implants,” Jenny added, blanching as she thought of a few of her gran's Wednesday Girl friends. Her mum considered some of them honourary aunts. If the implants came alive... there would be a new meaning to 'boobs on the run'!  
  
The Doctor nodded. “Still, we've found the transmitter. The Consciousness must be somewhere underneath. See anything?”  
  
“Well,” Mickey grumbled loudly, “there's always a manhole around here, down to where the rainwater is channelled into the river. Are we going underground?”  
  
“That's the idea,” muttered the Doctor. “Any problems with that?”  
  
Mickey decided there was no good answer to that one.  
  
Jenny, looking around, noticed the entrance to a manhole at the foot of the embankment wall she decided to lean over. She noticed there was a red glow coming from it. “Down there, maybe?”  
  
The Doctor ran to join her. He nodded as Mickey looked over. “Looks good to me.” He rushed down the stairs, barely letting them catch up. He took the lid off the manhole, and red light and smoke poured out.  
  
Jenny and Mickey coughed. “Ugh!” he cried. “I've smelled locker rooms more pleasant than that!”  
  
Undeterred, the Doctor climbed down the ladder underground. Not wanting to be left behind, Jenny and Mickey followed him. They found themselves in a slightly cramped chamber. Some chains hung from the ceiling to attachments on the lower parts of the walls. It might make _anyone_ claustrophobic.  
  
Before long, the Doctor opened a door to another chamber – glancing back at them to check that they still wanted to follow – and they went down some steps. The Doctor leaned against the railing and pointed to the huge, orange, wobbling mass in the middle of the chamber, filling the entire storm sump at the bottom.  
  
“Oh, my God!” Jenny gasped. Mickey was just silent.  
  
“The Nestene Consciousness, that's it, inside the vat.” He lowered his hand. “A living, plastic creature.”  
  
Mickey looked at him beseechingly. “Well, then tip in your anti-plastic and let's go!”  
  
He glared at him. “I'm not here to kill it. I've got to give it a chance.”  
  
“Tell me, Doctor.” Jenny's voice trembled as she tried to remain calm, but the words fell from her lips before she could think about the implications. She looked him right in the eye. “How many of those deaths you witnessed happened because someone was given a second chance and then squandered it?”  
  
The Doctor paled slightly, but remained silent. She knew far more than she let on. He wanted to know how, but lacked the time.  
  
He led them down some more steps. Then he leaned over the railings and addressed the Consciousness. “I seek audience with the Nestene Consciousness under peaceful contract. According to convention 15 of the Shadow Proclamation.”  
  
Jenny and Mickey stared at the Consciousness wiggled around a lot more, even coming up a bit in a blob. “It's answering and he can understand it?” Mickey whispered in her ear.  
  
“Thank you,” the Doctor replied, as though he could find speech in what the couple heard as nonsense. “If I might have permission to approach.”  
  
Jenny wanted to pace, but didn't want to attract attention. However, she spotted Wilf bound to a ledge, just as he spotted her. She instantly bolted down the stairs to him. The Doctor wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained. He trailed behind as Mickey followed Jenny.  
  
“Great-Grandy!” Jenny cried. She rushed to pull him to his feet, yanking the plastic bindings away and not caring that he stank. “You're alive!” Mickey was instantly at her side to help.  
  
Wilf was basically unharmed, but in shock. Even as he returned the hug Jenny engulfed him in as soon as he was standing. “That thing down there, the liquid, Jenny - it can talk! It's another alien!”  
  
“Can we keep the domestics outside, thank you?” the Doctor called out as he walked by to approach as closely as he dared.  
  
Jenny and Mickey both glared, Wilf stared in shock, but none of them could look away. What happened next could mean the difference between life and death for the world.  
  
The Doctor approached the Plastic blob via the closest ledge. “Am I addressing the Consciousness?”  
  
It roared and rumbled, rising even higher.  
  
“Thank you. If I might observe, you infiltrated this civilization by means of warp-shunt technology. So, may I suggest, with the greatest respect, that you shunt off?” He finished with a grin.  
  
The plastic moved in what looked and sounded to Jenny like a negative manner. Not that she could blame it given how the Doctor acted.  
  
“Oh don't give me that! It's an invasion! Plain and simple! Don't talk about constitutional rights!”  
  
The plastic reared what might have been its head. It reminded Jenny of an angry bull.  
  
"I...am...talking!” The Doctor's tone had suddenly became harsh and bellowing, but then – after the Consciousness quieted a bit – switched again to something much calmer, catching his breath. “This planet is just starting. These stupid little people have only just learnt how to walk, but they're capable of so much more.”  
  
Jenny could've sworn that he sounded rather fond of the Earth. But he had an odd way of showing it.  
  
“I'm asking you on their behalf - please, just go.”  
  
As he spoke, two Autons approached from behind. “Doctor!” Jenny, Mickey and Wilf cried. But it was too late. The Autons grabbed him, and one of them pulled the anti-plastic vial out of his jacket pocket – stepping aside to show it to the Doctor while the other held him tightly.  
  
“That was just insurance!” the Doctor yelled. “I wasn't going to _use_ it.” When the plastic seemed more angry, he continued in a rush. “I was not attacking you. I'm here to help. I'm not your enemy. I swear, I'm not!”  
  
The Consciousness roared, more features appearing.  
  
“What do you mean?” the Doctor called out.  
  
Jenny paled as the doors above him – and right on her level, several metres away – opened to reveal the TARDIS. “Oh, no!” she breathed.  
  
The Doctor's voice gained panic. “Oh, oh no - honestly, no! Yes, that's my ship.” The plastic roared even louder. **“** That's not true. I should know, I was there. I fought in the war - it wasn't my fault! I couldn't save your world! I couldn't save any of them!” He was all but shouting in a blind panic as his voice sank into emotion.  
  
“What's it doing?!” Wilf shouted as the Consciousness made a new sound.  
  
“It's the TARDIS!” the Doctor shouted back. “The Nestene has identified its superior technology - it's terrified! It's going to the final base. It's starting the invasion! Get out, Jenny! Mickey! Just leg it! Now!”  
  
Jenny stared at the struggling Doctor while Mickey tugged at her arm. “Come on!”  
  
She paled further as she remembered her gran was going to do some late night shopping with Mickey's mum.  
  
  
  
  
In Town Centre, Sylvia Noble walked with her friend Jackie Winter. The former was venting about her granddaughter's life. “I told her she can get compensation. I got the form for her. Believe me, her mother would've been first to get it if she was in town.”  
  
Jackie sighed. “Our little darlings don't look at the world the way we do. I can only imagine how Rose would've turned out had I been holding her when...” She always trailed off when she spoke of that day outside the church. It was supposed to be a happy day, and it ended in tragedy all the way around.  
  
Sylvia touched her arm, sharing in the silent grief. She, too, knew the pain of losing a child. Jenny didn't know yet – Sylvia had asked Donna to not mention her memories. The two women quietly headed into the Queens Arcade shopping centre to get some shopping done and cheer themselves a bit.  
  
  
  
  
A loud noise burst, and a blue electrical bolt – like lighting – went upward from the Nestene Consciousness, exploding part of the ceiling. “It's the activation signal!” the Doctor cried. “It's transmitting!”  
  
The electric blue signal shot up to the Eye, gathering strength before it pulsed regularly out to every plastic thing in range.  
  
Mickey shuddered. “It's the end of the world!”  
  
Jenny dragged them to the TARDIS. These Autons might not be able to get in, but there was a shot she could. Only the doors didn't budge. She couldn't get a key now! She looked at the Doctor, and let go of Wilf's hand to try to help. But as the activation signal transmitted, part of the ceiling fell in – taking away the stairs that were the only unblocked path. And cut off their ability to get back up the stairs.  
  
  
  
  
Inside the Queens Arcade, Clive walked with his wife and eldest son. His younger children were at friends' for the night. “There's no point creating a spreadsheet if you're going to spend summer money in winter months,” he told his wife in frustration.  
  
Nearby, Jackie and Sylvia were coming down the escalator. They looked up when Caroline gasped loudly as she walked past a shop window and the dummy tapped the glass.  
  
“Oh my God!” Caroline cried. “I thought they were dummies! I nearly had a heart-attack!”  
  
Sylvia looked carefully as all the dummies were doing the same. She paled as the morning's events seemed ready to repeat. “Everyone out! Now!” She grabbed Jackie's hand and dragged her away. Poor Jackie spluttered, trying to demand answers.  
  
Clive watched the panicking blonde as his wife smiled appreciatively. But when the dummies punched their way through the glass, he grabbed his family's hands. “It's true. Everything I read, all the stories! It's all true!” He remembered Jenny Noble's words, and was going to escape. His wife and son screamed as he tugged them away before the dummies stepped out and opened fire.  
  
He and his family barely escaped the barrage.  
  
  
  
  
The Consciousness suddenly roared words understandable to human ears: “Time Lord!”  
  
The Doctor, still being held hostage, couldn't believe that he was being ignored by a girl he thought was sensible. He ignored the Consciousness. “Get out, Jenny! Just get out! Run!”  
  
Mickey tired desperately to get into the TARDIS. “We haven't got a key! We're gonna die!”  
  
Jenny watched the Doctor struggle, meeting his panicking eyes with a determined gaze. She wasn't going to die without a fight! She looked around, and spotted a chain that attached far above to the ceiling. And it looked stable. She glanced back at the Doctor struggling to get to the Anti-Plastic, then grabbed an axe from the wall to work the chain loose.  
  
  
  
  
Outside, Sylvia and Jackie found just as much chaos outside the shopping centre as inside. An army of dummies all but marched out of the doors. The two women ran down the road, ducking behind a car outside a wedding shop. Clive and his family ran in the other direction, seeking any kind of shelter.  
  
Unfortunately, the dummies in the wedding shop's window punched through the glass. The women screamed and ran.  
  
  
  
  
Mickey noticed Jenny's actions. “What are you doing? There's nothing you can do!”  
  
Jenny ignored him and shrugged her purse off, tossing it to Wilf – who caught it out of habit. “I've got multiple university degrees that're worthless right now,” she declared as she carefully hacked at the binds holding the chain up.  
  
  
  
  
The wedding dummies advanced on Sylvia and Jackie,backing them against a motionless taxi. Sylvia threw her bag at one, knocking it down. Jackie did the same at another. But the third held its arm out, threateningly.  
  
Their respective pocket contents wouldn't carry enough weight to even unbalance the dummy. Even thrown at the same moment. They were trapped.  
  
  
  
  
“I'm good at too many things to settle on one focal point,” Jenny continued as she took hold of the freed chain.  
  
  
  
  
The dummies raised their arms. Even Clive and his family were trapped. He clutched them to him. “Did my searching do this?” he whispered to the air, to anyone who might be listening.  
  
Not that he expected an answer in this life.  
  
  
  
  
“Can't get a new job 'coz I'm overqualified for most things and others think I steal the answers...” Jenny muttered as she tested the strength carefully.  
  
  
  
  
The hands of the dummy opened, revealing spaces where bullets could be released. And the ones Sylvia and Jackie knocked down were getting back up. The women clutched each other and closed their eyes, unable to scream.  
  
  
  
  
“No dad, and an unclear future,” Jenny added as she got into position for the best angle. “But in every gymnastics event growing up, except the ones I thought I had to throw, I got first place!”  
  
“Jenny!” Mickey and Wilf cried. But she ran and swung. The Doctor saw her intention, and changed his struggling to force the Auton holding him off-balance. With an expert kick, she knocked the Auton off the Doctor into the Nestene blob, and then the other with another kick. The anti-plastic vial fell with the second as she swung passed.  
  
The Consciousness writhed and screamed as the Anti-Plastic leaked out. The electrical signal faded and vanished.  
  
The Doctor was amazed. There was an incredible graceful and delicate elegance in her swinging method. Most humans would've looked crass and graceless. How did this one do it?! “Jenny!” He reached for her as she swung back.  
  
But, using a twist to ensure she landed properly, she let go and landed herself without any help. “Second chances, Doctor?” she spat.  
  
He ignored that and grinned, looking down at the writhing blob. “Now we're in trouble,” the Doctor said. The next instant, the Consciousness started to explode, causing explosions in the ceiling.  
  
Jenny followed the Doctor up the stairs, running to meet the others. “But is the signal cut off?!”  
  
“Yes!” the Doctor shouted over the death throes as he raced to get them all inside the TARDIS.  
  
  
  
  
The Autons stopped, suddenly twitching in a bizarre dance. Jackie and Sylvia opened their eyes warily, and their mouths dropped in surprise as the dummies all fell to the ground. The twitching lessened with every passing second.  
  
Down the street, Clive and his family couldn't believe their luck. After a moment, they raced to get home.  
  
  
  
  
Wilf stared in shock as the Doctor rushed over, unlocked the door. “How can this-?”  
  
“Just get inside!” the Doctor shouted as he opened the doors.  
  
Mickey helped Wilf in, and the Doctor followed. Jenny took one last look at the dying Consciousness, shaking her head as she thought of the war that apparently destroyed so much. Of wasted chances and the damage war wrought. She closed the doors on the room and her thoughts. Neither was a good place to be at the moment.  
  
As the TARDIS whooshed away, explosions racked the structure under the Eye of London.  
  
  
  
  
The friends slowly stood, looking over the car in shock. One dummy was laying incongruously on its side, its head facing backwards with one leg elevated and twitching.  
  
Jackie slowly turned to Sylvia. “How did you know there was trouble?” she breathed.  
  
Sylvia was shaking. She couldn't even reach for her cell to check on her family. Let alone figure out how to explain things to her sometimes dim friend as the police arrived.  
  
  
  
  
As the TARDIS flew quickly away and promptly landed, Wilf stared at his surroundings as the sight sunk in. “Oh, my! It's barmy! And it's wonderful!” He laughed in pure joy. “It's a she! She's alive!”  
  
No longer surprised by the evident psychic abilities of the family, the Doctor strode to open the doors. “There we are! Outside again!”  
  
Wilf ran out of the TARDIS and rushed around it, trying to reconcile what he saw with what he knew of how the universe worked.  
  
Mickey stumbled out, legs shaking. “Don't scare me like that again!” he shouted at Jenny as she hurried after him.  
  
“Oi!” She swatted his arm. “Never said I wasn't frightened out of my mind!”  
  
The Doctor stood grinning in the doorway of the TARDIS. “Nestene Consciousness?” He snapped his fingers. “Easy.”  
  
Jenny scoffed. “You do realize that you'd be dead if it wasn't for me, don't you?!”  
  
The Doctor liked her fire. Interesting combination of intelligence and innocence in this one. He nodded. “Yes, I would. Thank you. Right then! I'll be off!” Only he didn't move. He paused, contemplating his next act. It seemed like a no-brainer. Only he wasn't sure how she would react. “Unless, uh... I don't know... you could come with me.”  
  
Jenny blinked in surprise, jaw dropping.  
  
“This box isn't just a London hopper, you know, it goes anywhere in the universe free of charge.” He looked very hopeful all of a sudden.  
  
“Excuse me?!” Jenny shouted. “I'm not even seventeen years old! What are you getting at?!”  
  
“I know your age,” he said, calm as you like. “I saw that form.”  
  
Mickey stepped right up next to Jenny. “Don't! I know you think you can trust him, but I think you know it's not a good idea to go off alone with him. Especially after everything your mum went through.”  
  
Jenny nearly turned sheet white.  
  
The Doctor fixed an even stare at the young man. “I never said you weren't invited, Mickey.”  
  
That shocked the young man into silence.  
  
He flashed his manic grin. “You've got a good head on your shoulders, and you're protective of Jenny. That's a good thing. A precious girl like that could use people looking out for her.”  
  
“Oi!” Jenny was indignant over the presumption. “I'm not a defenseless weakling!”  
  
He decided to not reply to that. “What do you think? You could stay here and fill your life with work and food and sleep, or you could go, uh... anywhere.”  
  
She fixed a hard stare at him. “Or are you just trying to find out why I'm so weird?”  
  
He shook his head. “Jenny, the TARDIS runs a basic scan of everyone who steps inside. She says you're a completely normal human. Nothing to indicate why. But I won't run any more comprehensive scans unless you consent to them. It's not important, and you're not weird. Don't let anyone tell you that ever again.”  
  
She blinked over his words. She decided she'd focus on the scanning part later. More important was asking questions. “Is it always this dangerous?”  
  
He hesitated, but knew she could see right through him. She'd already shown a knack for it. “Yeah.”  
  
Jenny pursed her lips. “That 'filling life' thing you said? Well, I have family and they do need help. I'm missing a job and income now, and if I'm without one for long enough, that could hurt my future. Not to mention Mickey's – he's working on college right now. He's almost done. I'd miss my family if I went away, and we're all we've each got. There are little things about human life, Doctor, that I'd be completely selfish to ignore to travel with you. And I could compete in the Olympics this year. I'm not missing that! I've wanted it since I started gymnastics.”  
  
He blinked. “Why would you want to compete when you're naturally more talented and skilled than the others?”  
  
Jenny bristled, hating that she felt like she had to defend her dreams. “For me, it's the challenge of restraining myself. To appear just like everyone else. I want to prove that I can do that, and what better place to do it? I'm not missing the chance to win the gold and maybe lead my team to some medals!”  
  
The Doctor almost pouted. He wanted her to come along. He hadn't felt this alive since before the Time War, and he wasn't ready to let it go.  
  
Jenny narrowed her eyes. “Besides, _why_ do you want us to come with you?”  
  
That answer came much more slowly than Jenny expected. He looked very sad all of a sudden.  
  
The Doctor finally found his voice. “I've been on my own for a long time. It gets lonely, and I need people to talk to. My spaceship, she's been my longest-running companion, but we both like having others around. And you just accepted that she's alive and has her own opinions. No one else – not even a companion from my own people – did that.”  
  
“Wait!” Mickey exclaimed. “You've had people travel with you before? What happened to them?!”  
  
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. “They've all left.”  
  
Jenny blinked. “Left of their own volition?”  
  
His eyes smarted, and he had to turn away a bit. Memories tried to overwhelm him. “Some did,” he softly admitted.  
  
Her mouth wobbled over the evident deep hurt radiating off him. “Did any... die?”  
  
The sad look in his eyes was all the answer they needed, but the silence was even worse.  
  
Mickey cringed at the curious look in Jenny's eyes. “I don't like the sound of this, Jenny. And we could be really late for things we need to go to.”  
  
Sensing he was losing the fight, he dropped his trump card. “By the way - did I mention, it also travels in time?”  
  
Mickey and Wilf's jaws dropped at the Doctor's declaration.  
  
He grinned again. “I can have you two back home any time you want.”  
  
Jenny stared at him, thoughtful. “I figured that out when you mentioned the hordes of Genghis Khan had tried to get in.” Not the time to mention how much else she knew about his escapades.  
  
The Doctor blinked, and frowned. “Oh, I hate when my thunder is stolen,” he grumbled. Then he sighed and shrugged. “What do you say? Besides, you're hiding your real intelligence and physical abilities here. You're something beyond what others can comprehend, and that's limited your options. With me, you won't have to hide. You can be yourself. And still be home to qualify and compete if you absolutely insist. I could even take you to see the first Olympics if you like.”  
  
Her eyes widened. “Um...” It was suddenly much more tempting, but could she accept? “Do you know how much your pain and loneliness makes you seem... if you'll pardon the expression... human?”  
  
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably.  
  
Jenny shook her head. “Oh, that's nor the right word. Well, more like a regular person. Someone who needs a friend. Someone to help him, even stop him from going too far. To remember the good in life...”  
  
The Doctor couldn't remember the last time his jaw went so slack. How _was_ she figuring all this out?  
  
Mickey felt his spirits sink. She was seriously considering it, and he was afraid of her decision. She was rarely indecisive for long.  
  
Wilf touched Mickey's arm. “Son, she's only going to go if you're willing to go with her. And she's always wanted to reach for the stars. Can you deny her her wish? And doesn't the idea of seeing other worlds excite you a bit?!”  
  
When he let himself think about it, Mickey did discover a bit of excitement. Of course, the shock of the day's events was enough to worry him and throw him off-kilter. But as a little boy, he had imagined flying through space in a rocket. Could he find it in him to say yes despite his fears?  
  
Jenny looked into Wilf's eyes. “Are you sure, Great-Grandy?”  
  
He nodded. “You go bring back just a little bit of the stars. That's all I ask. That and you both coming home safe.” He looked at the Doctor sharply and shook a finger at him. “You don't let anything happen to them! Ya hear me?!”  
  
The Doctor nodded. “I give you my word, Wilfred Mott, that I will do everything in my power to bring them home safely.”  
  
Jenny had a few hesitation points. “We need to get Mickey's car back. If it wasn't damaged by the Auton that replaced you,” she added to Wilf.  
  
The Doctor sighed. He'd never had to make this big a sell of traveling in the TARDIS before! Then again, he'd never tried so hard to change someone's mind. He shrugged. “I can take you to the car, if you're concerned about your great-granddad getting home safely.”  
  
Feeling like her next-to-last objection had been handled, Jenny tossed one more out. “We'll have to be back by tomorrow, eight in the morning, March 6 of 2004 – Common Era.”  
  
“Done.”  
  
Suddenly buoyed, Jenny beamed and turned to Mickey. Her smile fell a bit. “Well... what do you say?”  
  
Mickey looked at her for a long moment. She really wasn't going to go without him, even though she badly wanted the experiences that the Doctor said he could offer. Sighing, he realised once again how easily he tended to give in to her puppy eye expression. Well, he thought, can't leave her alone with this mad alien with a weird box. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Okay,” he agreed. “We'll go.”  
  
She squealed, hugging him as tightly as she dared.  
  
Mickey flinched, even as her hug made him smile. “I'm sure Java heard that one.”  
  
She just giggled. Then she let go and linked hands with Mickey and and Wilf. “Come on!” she shouted, al-but dragging the two men with her as she ran for the TARDIS with a beaming smile.  
  
Wilf laughed. His little dawn was going to the stars!  
  
Not for the first time, Mickey followed because of her enthusiasm. He hoped as she led them inside the impossible box that it wasn't a mistake.  
  
_(imagine theme music and credits here – along with the spoilers for “The End of the World”)_  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED IN "[THE END OF THE WORLD](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/47300.html)"

  
  



End file.
